


Dark Echoes

by tanxiaolian



Series: Resonance [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: A different take on awakenings, Adventure, After Starkiller, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Cartels, Conditioning, Dark, Difficult Decisions, Drinking to Cope, Force Bonds, Force-Sensitive Finn, Gen, Grey!Exile, Honey Trap, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, KotOR references, Major Character Injury, Military Training, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Old Republic Era, Past Brainwashing, Philosophy, Platonic Relationships, Sabotage, Scheming, Selective Memory Loss, Slice of Life, Snark, Spying, The First Order is not nice, but neither is the Resistance, or Death?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9792140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanxiaolian/pseuds/tanxiaolian
Summary: She had failed in the end, stabbed in the back by a former supporter. Her legacy, echoes of her decisions, would travel through the millennia, influencing the Jedi and Sith alike. But with the Hosnian Cataclysm violently ripping open old wounds, the Exile awakens once more.For there must always one that holds the knowledge of betrayal. Who has been betrayed in their heart, and will betray in turn.Meanwhile, the Resistance tries to push back the First Order, aided by a reluctant ally with her own agenda. However, their sacrifices appear in vain as their enemy seems to be one step ahead of them at every turn and their approach is questioned by those taking the view that the end justifies the means.As the Jedi remain elusive, is it the Force that wills the utter defeat of hope? Or is it slowly succumbing to a festering gangrene of the very tissue that holds the galaxy together?





	1. Old Wounds Reopened

“This is a waste of time. Dilapidated buildings, some broken machines… Don’t think anyone could make use of that. Us included.”

Poe Dameron, Resistance pilot and operative, scanned the area once more from their vantage point. The young Togrutan crouching next to him was right. There was nothing here but ghosts of the past.

“It looks rather like an old Imperial research station.“

“Which has been abandoned for decades, yeah. No First Order here, I bet my ass.”

A cheerful female voice chimed in via comm. “Riku, you better be careful with such ideas around our Commander Dameron.”

When the man she’d addressed caught up with the implications of her joke after a few moments, he looked mortified and eyed his commanding officer with concern.

“Watch it, Testor. What did I do to deserve this? I even gave you my fruit ration this morning!” Poe replied, amusement colouring his voice. “What’s the situation up there?”

“No hostiles. Skies clear as day. Well, apart from the thick dust in the air. That volcano nearby is pretty active, it’s a miracle that station hasn’t been swallowed up ages ago.”

That sounded worrying. “We should be done soon. No FO activity down here so far. Get ready for extraction on my sign.”

“Roger that.”

“Let’s go in for a quick look and then wrap this up.”

Riku threw his hands up. “Thank the Force.”

They searched the decrepit laboratories, but everything was covered by a thick layer of ash. Poe was about to call off the mission, when he checked the areal scanner’s display again. _That was ... unusual._ “There is something down there messing with the sensors. I keep picking up all sorts of interference.”   

“You think they’re hiding in the _kriffing_ _cellar_?”

“Well, something probably is. Not necessarily our enemies.”

Carefully, blasters at the ready, they descended the stairs. No life signs. In fact, nothing that would indicate sentient presence after the Empire’s fall. _Which made the noise on his sensors particularly mysterious._ They could hardly originate from a couple of broken bacta tanks, operating tables, or –

“They place the morgue right inside the med bay? Now that’s efficacy at its best.”

“And really morbid.” Yet, something was drawing him in, sparking his curiosity. Poe approached the coffins near the opposite wall. One of them stood out, though he could not put his finger on the reason. He swept aside some of the greyish dust. A faint glow was emanating from within the coffin. Startled, he took a step back. _What in Malachor…?_

“Ensign, get over here _now_.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “You found _what_?” Jessika “Testor” Pava did not sound happy about the turn of events at all.

Poe’s exasperated sigh crackled over the comm system.  “Some kind of active stasis chamber containing a human female – ”

“So seeing that she was alive you removed her and brought her with you?

“The chamber was too heavy to be moved. She wouldn’t have been safe there. The next time that volcano erupts, the lab will be buried by lava.”

“True, but… Are you out of your mind? Do you want to spend the next weeks in quarantine?”

“Jess, we could have been contaminated by all sorts of weaponized biological substances in that Imp lab. Dr. Kalonia will give us a thorough check anyway.”

This seemed to placate his fellow pilot. “So, what does she look like?”

“Despite her weak life signs, she’s been preserved perfectly. Quite a bit of muscle wasting, that’s to expected, but a healthy look on the whole. She has an awful lot of scars all over her body, though. Apparently, she has had a tough life so far.”  

“A warrior, then? Any idea how longs she’s been in there? And for what purpose?”

“She might have been a test subject, but the device she was kept in didn’t look like Imperial technology. It had a rather ancient vibe, to be honest.”

“Well, if she actually makes it, Kalonia will be intrigued and turn your mystery woman into _her_ test subject.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness. It kept her mind in its suffocating grip, as if she had never known anything else. Another reminder of her failure, as undeniable as the coldness of space. There was no escape from it, even though she still felt her own pulse, like a defiant drumming against impenetrable walls. _Apathy is death._ She was not yet ready to give up. Fighting was her life. There might once have been a time when she would have willingly given her life – but that was before everything fell apart with a single nod. The welcoming embrace of the Force would never come. Not for someone like her. _Betrayal_. Of that, she held intimate knowledge in her heart. It had long scarred over, locking up her memories, her identity. Few things existed that she could still be sure of. Pain and Hunger were amongst them, though they had lessened over time. Her fate had been woven into the fabric of the Force, keeping her in punishing limbo. She had long been slowly fading into the background noise of the cosmos, losing all sensation and coherent thought as her wounds had scabbed over. Only a trickle of the once familiar, warm flow remained. What would become of her once it had run dry? Had she yet to pass the threshold of a path promising new territories and new blood? Had she refused to answer the call of new mysteries in the dark? There was no wisdom to be gained in this deafening silence. In the beginning, there had been countless echoes passions swirling around her in drifting eddies to keep her company. Almost as if she could reach out and hold onto them to feel alive again. Perhaps the vanishing of all things would turn out to be the relief, the assurance of redemption she didn’t deserve. _But expectations are fragile things._

Invisible, ruthless hands gripped the threads of the Force - and pulled. A billion voices cried out in terror… An almost alluringly familiar agony flooded her mind, spread through her limbs. She was on fire alongside them, screaming in unison. Then they were silenced all at once. She, however, did not perish. The unforgiving flames burnt away her shackles, ripping open her scars. Blood kept pouring from every vein in a constant flood until it engulfed her completely, drowning her weaknesses, connecting her to the throbbing heart of the universe. _It is but the eye of the storm. The time has come to rejoin the chorus of all living things._ Light broke through her crimson haze. _Awaken, Exile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 18 chapters outlined for the first part. Expect weekly or semi-weekly updates. There will be some "slice-of-life" stuff, but none of it is gratuitous. This is my first fictional work in English, so feedback is greatly appreciated.


	2. Running from the Past and Present

She had been running blindly for what felt like weeks, camping in the forest, trying to survive despite her weakened body. In retrospect, sneaking out of that ominously unassuming base with nothing but the clothes on her skin had not been a wise decision. But it had been the _only_ choice. She had awoken to a world of pain and confusion in an empty ward, a situation reminiscent of… something. But still, she had no discernible reason for being there, unattended, uninjured but in pain. Had they drugged her? Was that why her memories felt so fuzzy? There were undeniably hundreds of people in the vicinity, though. No one had felt familiar, even the technology, the very design of the place had seemed off.  The others’ anticipation, their crippling fear had been palpable. She knew she had to get away. Whatever was coming, she did not want to be there to find out.

Had she realised how compromised her condition really was, she might have stayed regardless. She remembered training for this, remembered crawling through the undergrowth of jungle, trying to ambush the enemy or to take out their shields. She should know better, be stronger. But her body kept betraying her. The soles of her feet were bloody and rubbed raw, so she’d lost her grip while climbing a tree for a safer night’s rest. The fall had resulted in an open fracture of her left shinbone. Put in a splint with the help of some twigs and pliable grass, the leg was useless for all intents and purposes. Five more nights had passed since the accident, but she hadn’t been able to get far. Subsisting on tree bark and sap had done nothing to help her regain her health.  She had resigned herself to a daily routine of drinking from a nearby stream, eating and then passing in an out of consciousness, plagued by feverish dreams.

 _Have you answered the call of the dead? Has the fool saved you yet? No, instead he killed those you cared about. Now that you know the Pain I commanded, could you love me?_ A dark, pale face appeared in place of the barely human figure previously accosting her from the shadows at the edge of her mind. The face of a man with cold eyes _,_ whose fire had been extinguished by guilt hidden away for too long. A man on the run, who had slain his very identity when remorse over his other murders had threatened to overwhelm him. His stare bore into her, accusingly - _men and women with too much power, _squabbling_ over religion, while the rest of us _burn!__ _Then, as if looking for redemption:_ _Are you an Angel?_ Dark tendrils licked tauntingly at her sanity. Yet the familiar voice of an elderly woman rang true and clear, as if it was her own. _Remember, Exile. It is the internal struggles, when fought and won on their own, that yield the strongest rewards. And when you triumph, you will be even stronger for the victory._

When she spotted the lights closing in, she knew her suffering would be over soon, being in no state to put up a fight. She would not go down without one, though. _I shall not fear, for in fear lies death._ A familiar mantra to bolster her resolve. Barely able to make out their forms, she pushed herself off the tree supporting her for momentum and flung herself at one of the pursuers. Skilled fingers found the right pressure point, and the man slumped beneath her, unconscious. She swept the legs out from another hostile, knocking him to the ground. The cold pressure of a blaster muzzle against the side of her head and a calm baritone stopped her in her tracks. “We mean you no harm. Come with us.” She instantly dropped on her back, grabbing the wrist of the man behind her, pulling him down with her while jerking the weapon away from her body. Yet she lacked control over her muscles, hitting the ground too hard, knocking them both out with her desperate move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she awoke, it was once again in a medical ward, a different one this time, with a more make-shift appearance. Her hands were tied to the bed with restraints. _So she had been their captive after all._ Someone was moving around outside of the light blue curtain surrounding her.

“Where am I?”

The figure dropped her instruments with a start and, seconds later, tentatively pulled the fabric aside.

“You are awake. Finally! We thought we had lost you this time. Please do refrain from running away, though. We are not your enemies. We are trying to help you.”

_As if such unwarranted kindness existed anywhere in the galaxy._

“Why? Who are you?”

“I think our leader might want to tell you herself. She has taken quite an interest in you. I will summon her and then all your questions will be answered.” The harsh-looking woman smiled reassuringly and disappeared, only to return with another woman wearing a similar uniform, but decorated with what appeared to a higher ranking officer’s insignia.

“Hello, I am General Leia Organa. I am in charge of this base. Could you tell us your name?”

“Why should I trust you?” Organa held up her hands in a defensive gesture.

“We have no reason to hurt you. In fact, it is us who have given you an advance of trust. We found you in an Imperial abandoned lab, in stasis. Dr. Kalonia tried to help you regain your strength, but then you fled. We had to relocate our base, so it took us a while to get back to D’Qar for the search.” Turning to the doctor, she added: “Remove the restraints.”

“Are you military? Or some sort of sector militia?”

“We are the Resistance. Our goal is to re-establish the Republic and prevent the Imperial remnant from gaining a foothold.”

Organa noted the look of utter surprise on the younger woman’s face. “The Republic is gone?” How could she not know, most likely having been kept unconscious since the Empire’s heyday?

“As of the day the Seat of the Senate was obliterated along with the rest of the system, all that remains of the New Republic is several allied systems with no unifying government and a fraction of their former navy to protect them.”

“But we…we won at first, didn’t we? Unless…” Her voice trailed off.  Organa scrunched up her eyebrows in surprise. “What do you remember, exactly? Let’s start with your name.” Could she have heard of the Rebellion’s victory after all?

“Meetra…Surik. Apart from that… I can’t recall much, to be honest. There was… an invasion. We did what we could to stop them. So many died… they didn’t know…” Somehow, the general felt trustworthy. Were they on the same side, after all? Was she taking sides at all?

“Did you fight for the Republic, Ms. Surik?” The incoherent explanation left Organa with even more doubts about their guest’s background. The Empire’s incursion might count as an invasion to some systems, yet...

“I must have… I know I lead regiments of those who wouldn’t sit and watch while the war consumed all our values and razed whole planets to the ground. We failed, didn’t we? In the end, the Sith… it was him… he wanted to stop them… but they corrupted him, and… ” She trained her eyes towards the ceiling and took a deep breath. “I feel very confused. So many…dreams… or memories… I can’t tell them apart.”

“Have you heard of the Battle of Yavin?”

“You mean the enslavement of the native Massassi warriors by the Sith?” _What_? The Rebellion had directed their operations from the temple ruins on Yavin IV, but the Resistance general hadn’t been aware of their apparent origins.

“Not quite. How about the Galactic Civil War?”

“I remember there being opposing factions, within our forces even, people changing sides… but in the end, it was all in vain…”

“What was the status of the Jedi Order back then?” Something instantly changed in the younger woman’s demeanour. Her subsequent words came out with seemingly forced detachment.

“A number of them supported the war efforts at first, acting as commanders and generals. Later, there must have been some sort of purge, almost completely wiping them out. The remaining ones were hunted down - ” Suddenly, Surik flinched slightly, eyes widening in horror. Weakly, she added, “Not even the masters survived.”

“What came after the war? The Empire?”

“You mean the Sith? They were involved, but…sorry, I can’t make sense of all this right now. Why are you asking me these strange questions?”

Organa was intrigued. So she really had lived through the end of the Old Republic? The knowledge she might have would be indispensable to the Resistance. The Empire’s control over education had caused most of the truth to be lost and replaced by propaganda. “I am sorry, I know this must be upsetting. I am trying to establish a timeline. You were probably born many years before the fall of the Old Republic. If that is the case, you have spent nearly half a century in stasis. The galaxy has changed a lot since…well, your time.”

Surik stayed silent for several minutes, letting the realisation set in. What a remarkable situation she found herself in. Firstly, the supposed General was force-sensitive, only slightly so and woefully untrained, but Surik was glad to have hidden her own presence instinctively from the very beginning. However, why she had felt the need to do so in the first place, why being on the run was so deeply ingrained into her psyche, remained a mystery. She knew she wasn’t a Jedi, even though she had trained to become one, until she had left for war. That part, she was able to relive vividly, the power struggles with the Army officers, the crushing responsibility of commanding a significant part of the fleet, the adrenaline rush whenever she led committed soldiers into battle… Strangely though, she recalled successfully driving back the enemy in the end, which cast doubt on all those moments of ensuing chaos in the galaxy, of failure and exile on a personal level, all of which she remembered as though through a thick fog. But the Jedi really were gone, but so were the Sith. She had been sure of that basic fact when she had left to…to do what?  

“So everyone I knew is dead.” She finally retorted matter-of-factly.

“I am afraid so. But I think your experience and knowledge of history could be a great asset. Would you consider helping us and fight for the Republic once more?” Organa noticed a strange dark glint in Surik’s eyes. The stranger would have to be watched, of course, but she sensed no threat in her. Besides, her Midi-clorian count had turned out to be almost zero, even lower than the negligible sub-threshold value Finn's blood had yielded, so at least there wouldn't be any surprises in that regard.

“I will help you. But until my mind clears up, I won’t be of much use, I’m afraid.”

“Major Styx, who lead the search operation for you, reports that you took out his whole squad in seconds despite a broken leg and near-fatal blood poisoning. We always have need for excellent fighters like you.” Another warm smile graced Organas lips.  “You must have thousands of questions, but your new comrades will be happy to answer them. Report to Captain Werra as soon as you are ready to start training. He will help you familiarize yourself with our base and way of doing things.” Organa turned to leave.

“Leia, wait, we found something with her.” Returning to her patient again, Dr. Kalonia held out a thin chain with two small pieces of metal attached. ”You cradled this in your right fist. Maybe it will add some insight into your identity.”

A soldier’s ID tag. Lieutenant Bao-Dur. Zabrak. Engineering Corps E-05. A single tear made its way down Surik’s cheek. _Your command echoes still, General. And I obey, as I did at Malachor._ What had they done? What had _she_ done? Her lungs turned into ice. She flipped the second trinket around. A small piece of armour. With a shaky engraving - _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la._

„Did you know him? Can you read the inscription?”

The questions pulled her out of the painful reminiscence. “One of the soldiers serving under my command. The engraving is not his, though. It’s Mandalorian. It means - _Not dead, merely marching far away_.”

“Are you from Mandalore? You accent has some very distinct features associated with the Outer Rim and some Mandalorian elements as well.”

“I grew up on Dantooine. The Mandalorians, however…” No -  she had already laid bare too much. “I must have respected their culture. That’s about it.”

Organa didn’t seem intent on pressing her further. “I understand. Take a rest until you’re ready to join us.”


	3. Uneasy Beginnings

Meeting with Captain Werra had been an uncharacteristically unpleasant experience. He had instantly taken a dislike to his newest cadet. None of her abilities and qualifications had impressed him – after all, nobody used a vibroblade in modern warfare, so possible applications of her melee skills were rare. Considering her a raw recruit, he was not willing to put her in charge of others, either, so she ended up having to go through basic training with other newcomers. It would be beneficial for regaining her physical stamina and resilience, but of little use in the greater scheme of things. She would not be able to leave the base for weeks and enjoy no opportunity to face their enemies in battle, rendering her unable to find out first hand whether Organa's explanations of the state of the galaxy were true. The lack of confidence was positively weakening her and made her feel like a dead weight. She could not shake the notion that the answers she sought could only be found in battle.

~~~~~~~~~

Later during that first week with her new so-called allies, she returned to the med bay for a final check-up.

“By the way, what happened to him?” She cocked her head towards the prone figure of a dark-skinned young man across the room.

“That is Finn. He sustained a grievous lightsaber injury while infiltrating the enemy’s base to protect us.” Kalonia picked out a med-scan image to illustrate the grave injury. “He is lucky to be alive.” Meetra inspected the picture.

“Indeed, he is lucky his opponent didn't intend to kill him.”

“How so?”

“For such a long and even strike, the attacker must have been standing rather close, yet he deliberately angled his saber just so that it consistently penetrated no farther than the upper layer of muscles, tendons and nerves. Otherwise he would have sliced right through his victim’s spine, ribs and lungs. In fact, that would have been the easiest move. Executing a non-lethal strike instead requires an extraordinary amount of precision and control.”

This observation took the experienced doctor by surprise. _It was Kylo Ren who did this to Finn. Why should he of all people hold back?_ “How did you acquire your … expertise on saber wounds?”

“Lightsabers and other melee weapons were still quite common in my day. I was trained primarily to fight with bladed weapons. There is no way the assailant simply messed up. The shock and nerve damage would have rendered Finn unconscious for a few hours or perhaps days, how come he is still here?”

“We don’t know. To be honest, we lack the experience to deal with this kind of wound. His condition hasn’t changed for weeks. Commander Dameron even comes by twice a day to read to Finn whenever he isn’t on a mission. So far to no avail.”

“Dameron…He was the one who found me in the lab, wasn’t he? I was told he’s on a mission now, would you mind if I took over his bedside duties until his return?” She wasn’t sure what she hoped to accomplish by making such an offer, yet she could not shake the peculiar feeling of kinship with the unconscious man. In uncertain times like this, going by her intuition seemed to serve her best.

“Of course not, I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Finn too.”

~~~~~~~~

Days later, Finn still had not awoken from his comatose state. This time, the Exile waited until Kalonia had left the med bay. When the personnel of the day shift had gone to sleep, she slipped into the ward and pulled up a chair to once again sit by Finn’s side. Taking a few deep breaths, she fell into a meditative state. The man’s mental walls were non-existent, even his mind itself felt disturbingly empty, as if his self had been thrown to the ground and crushed into tiny fragments. Finally, she happened upon a faint thread of light which allowed her to trace it all the way back to – _A dainty kiss to his forehead, a distraught scream of his name, a glimmer of hope, a blood-stained hand, numbers, letters, flashes of Chromium, rules, loss…_ All of a sudden, the disparate pieces came back together in a swirl of remembrance. Meetra smiled inwardly. _Awaken, Finn. Do it for her. Awaken._

~~~~~~~~~

“What is it this time, Surik?”

“These moves are ineffective, Sir. They leave you too exposed to your opponent's counterattack.”

“You think you can do it better, then? Show me.” Corporal Narish, in charge of hand-to-hand combat training, spat angrily.

She had barely taken up an Echani basic stance when he charged at her, attempting to knock her off balance. She sidestepped him, caught his dominant arm and twisted it upwards, aided by his own momentum. He reciprocated by landing a kick against her abdomen, which allowed him to free his arm and attempt a hip throw. Being much shorter than him, Surik used the leverage in her favour, pushing him to his knees instead. In his defensive struggle, he managed to land another blow against her, which she countered with an elbow strike towards his chin before she finally subdued him in a choke-hold.

Deeply humiliated, Narish wiped the blood from his split lips and shrieked: “Captain Werra!”

The middle-aged man, who had been watching the cadets’ training, strode over briskly and was greeted by a sea of salutes.

“This woman is one of your new recruits, isn’t she, Sir? I request you reprimand her for insubordinate behaviour.” Angrily, Werra turned towards her.

“This is not the first time you have pulled a stunt like this. We are not the First Order, but we can't behave like an unruly bunch of pirates, either. We need to be able to trust each other to do what is necessary on the battlefield. That includes following orders. What do you intent to accomplish by disrespecting your commanding officers?”

“I give everyone the respect _they deserve._ I’m only trying to be helpful. Winning against someone does not imply lack of respect, Sir.”

“You think you are better than anyone else? Come on then, prove your _superiority_. We have a strategy prep for a simulated battle coming up. Share your insights there.” Werra replied acidly.

Surik shrugged and followed him to a group of more experienced cadets and some officers caught in a heated discussion of the scenario. Most were playing it safe, suggesting rather conservative maneuvers. Occasionally, a few ludicrous ideas came up that would most likely lead to an aborted mission or, failing that, a death toll of 100%. Werra kept eyeing her the whole time. After silently listening to the explanations and proposed tactics, Surik took a step forward. All heads turned toward her. “If I may – Split the men up into six small squads. They will have less firepower, true, but attract less attention at the same time. Two will gain intel on enemy positions without engaging. Once the other groups have gone in and completed their tasks, they are to distract the camp guards with hit-and-run strikes. One squad up here for back-up, another to take out the generators, allowing the third to shut down the other defenses. This allows them to coordinate even with minimal communication. The last group infiltrates the camp - ”

Werra interrupted her snidely. “That's you grand plan? You are sending the sixth group on a suicide mission.”

“If that were the case, all the previous proposals are potentially suicide missions for everyone involved.”

“Well, it’s easy to give such orders when you’re safely sheltered in your own HQ.”

“I would not order others to take on such a critical role without leading that advance squad myself, sir.”

Werra was about to make a scathing come-back when an aging male Twi’lek with light green skin had approached them and put a placating hand on his shoulder. “Captain, resume your discussion undeterred. I would like to have a word with your opinionated cadet.”

Werra nodded eagerly, pleased to have this matter taken out of his hands.

“Surik, walk with me.”

“Yes, Sir.” She fell into step with him. After a few paces, the officer addressed her.

“I’m Major Styx. I assume you don’t remember me, but my men sure remember you. They took quite a beating when we found you on D’Qar.”

“I am sorry, Sir. I was unable to assess whether you posed a threat.”

“And for general survival purposes, you are right not to extend your trust lightly. Regarding your tactical suggestions, would you really volunteer to be on the infiltration squad?”

“Of course. A good leader does not pretend to be irreplaceable or hide behind his soldiers. He should set an example by being right there on the battlefield with them. The highest ranking should lead the mission with the highest stakes. Even if that means perishing in the attempt. One who is not ready to sacrifice oneself must not expect those serving under him to give up their lives, either.”

“Won’t that entail high casualties among the valuable, experienced officers?”

“If their strategies are sound, no. Otherwise, barring unforeseen accidents, they might be deemed unfit for their position. On the other hand, in some cases only they might have the resilience and self-awareness to be able to push that final button, even if that puts them in the middle of the resulting explosion. And your question implies that the common soldiers are blaster fodder. I object to that. Even the lowliest tech can make all the difference.”

“Don’t worry, I am not a proponent of such a degrading view. General Organa told me about the extent of your experience. You are no longer used to following orders, are you?”

“I am accustomed to power struggles, however, I tended to outrank most or work alone, so admittedly, adapting is quite difficult.”

“I see.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I will suggest giving you a commission. You could start out by training your own troops. Earn their respect. Once you are better acquainted with our situation and our enemies, you will get to lead them into the battlefield. So, will you take this opportunity?”

“Your recommendation honours me, Sir.”

“You’ve already found yourself antagonists on this base. Do not disappoint me, Lieutenant Surik.”


	4. Well-conditioned

Early morning was undeniably the most tranquil time of day. Meetra was certain to have spent most of her adult life on spaceships, so the calm natural surroundings provided a welcome respite from the bleak interior of the base and confusing nightmares. Meditation did not come easily as it – apart from feeling distinctly, almost nauseatingly unnatural, like using an artificial limb for the first time – pushed all kinds of horrifying imagery into Meetra’s opened mind. Scenes of burning cities, massacres of civilians and faceless, cloaked figures, pleading people at her feet, the reproachful stare of a man she remembered to have been her mentor. And a perturbing, familiar undercurrent, interfering with the normal background noise as if tapping into some kind of cosmic hunger.

So she did the next best thing – take a soothing walk every day, away from the buzz of activity and flickering life signatures of the Resistance members. Today was no different, except for the dark figure stumbling at a ridiculously slow pace on a small path through the vegetable patch. Quietly approaching the man, she called out, “Finn?”

He turned around with a start. “Oh. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up this early.”

“You finally regained consciousness?” It was a pleasant surprise. Something in his mind must've kept him unconscious until he was ready to face the world again.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it’s been weeks. Waking up with everyone that mattered to me having disappeared in some way…it’s hard.”

“Trust me, I know _that_ feeling. I’m Meetra Surik, by the way.”

“Dr. Kalonia told me you visited me a couple of times. I’m afraid I don’t remember you, though.”

“You couldn’t, we never met. I was a long-term inhabitant of the med ward as well. So, um, what are you…doing out here?”

“Trying to regain control of my limbs. With mixed results so far. They gave me some stims to accelerate nerve and muscle recovery. You should have seen me three days ago; I was pretty much crawling around that goyah patch.”

“Ah, too bad. I would have welcomed something to cheer me up.”

“Tough work?”

“They promoted me to lieutenant. What they forgot to mention was that it entailed having to train a bunch of the craziest, most unruly or incompetent recruits I have ever encountered. They are enthusiastic about fighting for justice and stuff, I give them that. But most either have a very sob story and are thus hell-bent on blowing themselves up in some FO officer’s face to be done with life, or they are former criminals. The rest are basically kids. I have no idea what to do with them.”

“Children as soldiers? _Here?!_ ” Finn’s shock was etched across his face.

“Looks that way. We’ve got Togrutan twins, aged 15, and a gaggle of human adolescents. I guess I’ll drop them off at the Medic division’s door one they’re done with basic training.”

Her interlocutor’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I should speak to the General…”

“Organa? You think you're some big shot here?”

“No, not really, Im mean, I actually just joined.” Distraught, he shook his head. “Sending kids to the frontlines is just unacceptable.”

“Well, I was 14 when I saw a battleground with my own eyes for the first time. A few months later I killed someone in combat. I’m not sure if I’d be less messed up if I’d been older. I remember wanting to make a difference. So do they. You’re new, then? They told me about your _heroic deeds_ with regards to Starkiller. Made a grand entrance, huh?”

“I didn’t think about the bigger picture at that time, to be honest. I simply wanted to help Rey.”

“The girl training to become a Jedi?” So that was the chaste blossoming romance she’d caught glimpses of in Finn’s mind. If he knew that the Jedi code forbade attachments...

“That’s her.” His eyes gleamed wistfully. “When she comes back, I want to be able to keep up with her… figuratively speaking, at least. But I am pretty much useless now. I can’t even join the normal training with the ground troops.”

“You will get there. It’s a matter of willpower.” She thought of Bao-Dur’s arm, his determination to not let its loss impede his work. Had it been her fault, somehow? “How about you help me with my troops? You can follow along to the extent of your strength and watch the others form the rest of the time. I really need some back-up to rein them in. You have some military experience?”

An unreadable expression crept into Finn’s eyes. “Plenty, unfortunately.” He paused, lost in thought. Once more, she felt a strange connection to the man flare up and then ebb away again. No doubt there was more to him than he let on.

“Well?”

“Ok, I’ll do it.”

Meetra grinned. “Attention, soldier!”

Instantly, he snapped to attention. “Ma’am.” He gave a botched salute, crisply raising his fist halfway in the air and then slowly dropping his hand until it reached the level of his temple. Simultaneously, his face dropped as well, puzzling Meetra with his display. Still, Finn stood immobile as if petrified, fear evident in his eyes.

“Um, at ease?” Finn obeyed, face reddening with shame.

“Well, that was odd… Are you alright?”

“I think so. I didn’t … expect that. The order, I mean. I hadn’t braced myself for it.”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have assumed Finn to be a faulty droid. She’d get to the bottom of his bizarre behaviour later, lest she lose his trust instantly.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at 0830 sharp for the morning drills.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the past three weeks, Finn had turned out to be a great assistant. He was exceptionally well-versed in all the skills they were teaching the recruits. To aid Finn’s recovery further, they had even started basic melee weapons training sessions after hours. Through a stroke of sheer luck, they had come across a stash of what looked like vibroblades and electro-staffs in crates recovered from an old Imperial warehouse, which came in handy. At the very least, Surik would get a decent sparring partner for her efforts that she could supplement her daily kata drills with. She had dismissed the soldiers for the day and made her way towards her usual, somewhat secluded training spot in an unused engineering room near the cargo hangar.

“Lieutenant Surik, may I have a word.”

“Sure. You are…?”

“Captain Pallan.” She motioned for Meetra to follow. Once they had turned a corner, the unfamiliar officer spoke again.

“You have been with us for a while now – how have you adapted to life on the base?”

“I have no complaints. The recruits are making great progress.” Meetra eyed her interlocutor with mild suspicion. “Are you investigating something?”

“Actually, yes. I’m with Internal Affairs. You read people well.”

She shrugged. “Pure necessity. To what do I owe the honour?”

“I won’t insult you by beating around the kiivar bush, then. You have become friends with Private Finn, is that correct? You spend a lot of time with him.”

“Firstly, I don’t appreciate being monitored. Finn is my assistant, in a manner of speaking. In return, I help him with his physical recovery. So, is this about a fraternisation allegation?” Meetra gave an incredulous snort.

“No, that charge doesn’t exist in the Resistance. The matter at hand is far more delicate. Are you aware of his background?”

“I merely assumed he had prior military training.” It was Pallan’s turn to laugh, if rather mirthlessly.

“Military indeed. He used to be a First Order stormtrooper before he claimed to have switched sides and joined us. He hasn’t told you, has he?”

“I don’t usually interrogate people before associating with them. He has a rather …odd way of reacting to orders, so suspecting a past trauma, I never pressed him about it.” _First Order? That was rich. No wonder he wasn’t exactly eager to discuss his past._

“See, that is exactly why I am glad we are talking about this. We are both concerned about Finn. The stormtroopers are subjected to gruelling mental conditioning. It is believed to be 100% effective, which is why some of us find it hard to believe he broke through years of brainwashing..." She flicked her fingers for effect. "-just like that.”

“You suspect him of being a traitor? How ironic, considering he was instrumental in protecting all of you.”

“Not necessarily. Rather, I am worried there might be certain control protocols ingrained in his mind.”

“What is my part in this, then? I am hardly an expert on mind control.” Somehow, those words left a bitter aftertaste in Meetra’s mouth. _What was she missing here?_

“I didn’t assume you were. I am simply asking you to watch out for further irregularities in his behaviour or inconsistencies in his narrative.”

“You want me to spy on Finn?”

“If those hypothetical protocols were triggered while he is on this base or deployed on a mission for us, the consequences would be disastrous. I am sure you understand the impact of Finn’s mental integrity on our safety – and his.”

“Fine.” Meetra ground out. “We shall see whether you’re simply paranoid. You owe me a case of whiskey if you are. I am sure you can requisition some.”

“Deal.” Pallan put a gloved hand on her shoulder in an almost sickeningly friendly gesture. “The Resistance is indebted to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The unwelcome request had caused her to be late for dinner. Slamming her tray on the table, Surik slumped into the seat across from Finn.

“What put you in a bad mood? The recruits’ performance wasn’t that terrible, you know.” Finn observed, mouth filled with the fuzzy, reconstituted vegetables that they’d been served for three days straight.

She rolled her eyes. “Yantra nearly shot two of her group mates... apart from that, yeah, they are definitely showing promise.”

“Frankly, I’ve seen worse. Watching you train them is really fascinating. It’s been mere weeks and they’d follow you everywhere. Reaching that level of loyalty with threats and - ” He quickly stopped his torrent of words.

Meetra lowered her voice, leaving no doubt that she _knew_. “I take it First Order training methods are a far cry from ours?”

“Wh-who told you?”

“It came up in a conversation.”

“With whom?... Never mind. Please, don’t be angry with me. I’ve been trying to forget. Very few people here know, I didn’t want you judging me. ”

“It’s not my place to judge your past. It’s your current actions that count. I couldn’t care less even if you were an assassin or spice trader. Besides, you don’t know anything about my life before _this_ , either.”                            

“That’s true, but you probably aren’t a traitor. Nobody is ever going to fully trust someone who has changed their allegiance. And I can’t blame them.” Meetra was about to deride the hypocritical fools who’d hold his defection against him, when an almost painfully vivid memory ripped through her. _Well, you haven't seen anything yet. I have this habit... I'm a deserter. It's what I do. Right after that final battle, I was right there with the rest of the defectors, because it was the right thing to do._ _We knew where our loyalties lay - to the Jedi who came to help us, not the ones who sat back on Dantooine and Coruscant, watching us die. So when those same Jedi who watched us die decided to start fighting us during the Jedi Civil War, we fought back. I fought back._

“Meetra? You still with us?”

She had to clear her throat a few times before replying. “Yeah. I was just…reminded of someone.”

“You’re remembering things, that’s great!” Several heads turned to stare at them. Meetra gave them an icy glare.

“Didn’t feel so great, though. I’d rather not…” A handsome man with mussed dark hair and tanned complexion wearing a pilot suit interrupted them with an animated slap on Finn’s shoulder and a charming smile aimed at Meetra.

“Our two revenants!”

“Hey, Poe.” Finn coughed, a happy grin spreading over his face.

The pilot took the seat beside his friend. “Sorry, I didn’t get to welcome you into the family, Meetra. I’ve been on missions for weeks, with only a few hours on base, during which you were either asleep or training. I’m Poe Dameron. My team found you on that Imperial moon. ”

“So you’ve seen me naked? Nice meeting you.” Finn nearly choked on his opaque beverage.

“Uh, yeah, I admit… well, I’ll forget the sight if you insist.” Poe replied awkwardly. To his own surprise, he felt heat rising in his cheeks.

Meetra shrugged. “No harm done, I guess. You have my gratitude for bringing me here – and back to life.”

“I aim to please. You can repay your life debt by joining us for a small post-mission gathering.”

“Life debt?” Meetra gave an amused laughter. “I’m not a Wookie, in case you hadn’t noticed. But I’ll be there.”

“Great. Actually, it starts right now, we’ve just finished debriefing. Finn, you’re coming, too.”

“But I merely owe you a jacket,” came the coy reply.

“True, that’s why you aren’t obligated to bring any booze.”

A petite woman with expressive eyes joined the three of them as they left the mess hall chatting. “Looks like you finally found someone you can’t impress with your charms and bawdy jokes, Poe?”

“He hasn’t told them yet, got any good ones in your repertoire?” Meetra teased.

“Just wait until he’s had some shots of Corellian whiskey.”

“Pava, you keep spreading these rumours about me. As your commander, I should-”

“Oh no, please don’t discipline me, Commander Dameron.” His fellow pilot cried mockingly.

“These women are going to be the death of me, Finn.” Poe shook his head in pretend desperation. “Promise me you won’t ever turn against me like that, friend. My heart would break.”

Finn gulped, trying to give a witty reply, but none came to his mind. “I’d never.” He hesitantly patted Poe’s back, eliciting an appreciative nod from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have my instructions been clear for everyone?”

“Do we have to? Can’t we just continue to use stun grenades instead?” One of the Togrutan twins spoke up.

“Is anyone here afraid of a stun grenade?” Silence was the unanimous reply. “Didn’t think so. But handling a live grenade might make people think twice. You need to overcome your inhibitions here instead of fumbling with an actual grenade for the first time on the battleground. Or – worst case – panicking and tossing it towards your squad mates. So do it once, do it well and I won’t ask you to repeat the exercise. Understood?”

The recruits collectively sounded their acknowledgement. Those waiting for their turn took shelter behind a primitive field barrier. A box of grenades stood halfway between them and the throwing spot. A single soldier crouched in the low trench several feet away. Surik gave him the go-ahead. He inspected the grenade for a moment, removed the safety and threw it with all his strength. A split-second before it hit the ground, it exploded in a ball of fire and shrapnel. _Perfectly executed._ Those next up mostly did well, too, with an occasional fluke that ended up detonating uncomfortably close, fragments just about reaching the trench wall. Surik cursed inwardly – _whoever designed those grenades deserved to be shot for undoubtedly having cause a staggering number of friendly-fire incidents_.

A young, gangly man stepped up to the provisional ditch. He paused before reaching into the box, visibly taking a deep breath. Then, with jerky movements, he grabbed a grenade and surveyed the throwing area. _Move!_ Propelled by a misplaced surge of confidence, he pulled the safety pin, built up momentum – and froze. Surik’s eyes widened at the scene unfolding before her. _He wouldn’t be able to follow through._ Her fears were realized the moment he dropped the small bomb, his body still completely immobile. _If the whole crate blows up with him, we won’t stand a chance._ She heard the other recruits yell, but the words were rendered incomprehensible by a deafening pounding of blood in her ears. Her battle-honed reflexes kicking in, she leapt over the barrier, sprinted towards the tiny ball that could spell their deaths and threw it at the last moment. As she pulled the stunned recruit to the ground, the detonation crushed them face-first into the soil with a sickening crack that implied bones breaking. The grenade had exploded further away than anyone could have reasonably expected, but despite the adrenaline cursing through her veins, she instantly perceived the piercing sting of metal penetrating flesh.

Strong hands pulled her off the recruit. She could see his lips move, incessantly mouthing apologies. A metallic shard protruded from his exposed shoulder. A high-pitched buzzing sound rang in her ears, drowning out the concerned questions of the bystanders. It took her several moments to recognize the face of the man holding her up – Major Styx. He gestured at her own shoulder with eyebrows raised – _had she been hit as well?_ – instinctively causing her to give an affirming nod. Firmly grasping her arm and digging the other hand into her trapezius muscle, he pulled. Surprised by the sudden bout of agony, Meetra yelled a curse she herself couldn’t hear. When the pain had subsided, she glared at the older man with teary eyes, astonished to find she hadn’t passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Kalonia seemed satisfied with the results. “You’re cleared for duty, Surik. Though I need to remind you, Eyareth, our training grounds do not require the same urgent treatment that is necessary during an average sniper assignment.”

Major Styx gave Meetra an apologetic smile. “Old habits die hard.”

“What about Cerrig?”

“He’ll need bacta and a few days of rest. And a stern talk, that’s for certain.” Styx leaned closer. “What you did today deserves one, too. But also a medal.”

“I assure you, Sir, I need neither. I take full responsibility –“

“You will do no such thing. We are aware that the abilities of our recruits vary greatly. Their inherent shortcomings are not your fault.”

Styx' words were a small comfort.

 

Pallan caught up with her after she’d left the med ward. _The last person she had needed to see._

“I heard what happened today. I’m glad no one was seriously hurt.”

“So am I.” _Come on, spill it out, what is it this time?_

“Several recruits reported that Finn repeatedly coaxed Cerrig to be the next to attempt the exercise.”

“As was his task to inspire confidence in the nervous ones.”

“Apparently, it _eroded_ Cerrig’s confidence instead.”

“See, it hardly gets more paranoid than this. What are you accusing Finn of, inadvertent psychological warfare?”

“This is no joking matter!”

“Am I laughing? If I had misjudged, I’d have suffered much worse than a dislocated joint. I simply fail to see how Finn could possibly have been a driving factor behind that boy’s idiocy.”

“Your assertion has been noted. Please do keep an eye on Finn. That’s all.”

As the captain turned sharply and walked away, Meetra barely managed to suppress the sudden urge to murder her on the spot, watch her clutch at her throat, desperate for oxygen, eyes going wide with fear, the light in them extinguished as she resigned herself to inevitability of her fate… A soft voice crept into her head. _Killing them wasn't the best thing. Making them fall... making them see our side of it, that was the best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a goya (bitter gourd): https://goo.gl/images/2Psl8W


	5. Fields of Ice, Fields of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated version!

The transport ship shook violently as it descended towards the gleaming white surface of Alzoc III. Already, they had been hit twice, causing their pilot to change their intended landing zone to one farther away from the main action. Strapped in between two dozen of her troops, Meetra Surik closed her eyes and let soothing feelings wash over her comrades through their bonds. Those who had been quietly praying or repeating the same whispered fears over and over again fell silent.

A thunderous blow ripped through the ship as an anti-aerial missile found its target, tearing off one of the engines and part of the wall it had been attached to, pulling two soldiers to their certain deaths. Surik removed her security harness and stumbled into the pilot’s cabin.

“Report!”

“Primary engine destabilising, secondary engine lost. We could blow up any moment.”

“Pava, get us down, now!”

_Atton, touch down here, before the geomagnetic storms fry our controls completely!_

_It might be a rough landing._

_Do it!_

And then darkness. Death. Whose?

“I won’t be able to slow down enough.” Without losing her professional calm, she inspected the display above her head. “We need to eject the soldiers.”

“We are 20 klicks from the LZ, there’s no point –“

_General, we won't make it-_

_Don't you dare die on me, Captain._

Static. Loss.

“No point in them dying while crash landing, either.” _Kriff_. Surik climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in.

“Prep for ejection in 3…2…1…” The emergency hatches opened with a hiss. They were lucky this particular vessel was equipped with state-of-the-art safety mechanisms. First Order technology, in fact. Perhaps their stormtroopers weren’t considered replaceable after all.

_What if my calculations are incorrect?_

_They never are, Bao-Dur._

_I appreciate your trust, General, but perhaps I should confer with-_

_We are not to talk of this to anyone else. Revan's orders._

“Any improvement in sight?”

“I’m working on it. You should leave, too.”

“I could help -” Her sentence was cut short by an abrupt jolt and sudden influx of cold air.

 

Meetra awoke with her face pressed sideway into the snow. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The advance force should have taken out the First Order’s AAGs first to pave the way for the backup troop transports. Why had they gone in before their success had been verified? Judging from the waves of pain echoing through the Force, the battle for the rare natural resources of the former Legacy moon was raging far away; there was no chance she would be able to walk there. She’d sooner freeze to death, just like her squad probably would. Their continued existence depended on them finding a mode of transport – and Pava’s survival. Suppressing her shivering, Meetra reached out into the Force. _Show me the way._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was gradually getting dark. It had been hours since she’d still been able to feel her legs. Her boots were filled with melting snow. After a brief stint on Ilum in her youth, she’d vowed to never set foot on a snow world again. Now she knew why, generally speaking, that had been a wise decision. Fighting fatigue and cold, Meetra trudged through the snow that reached past her waist in some places. Finally, she was able to make out the blurred silhouette of the downed vessel. _So she didn’t get out in time after all._ Pava’s life signs had all but extinguished, making it easier to follow the absence of life, the brief hollow in the Force a dying being left behind, instead of its presence. Her security harness kept the pilot suspended upside down, the strap digging into an obviously fractured rib, but at the same time restricting the blood flow from her other, deeper wounds. Her complexion had taken on the blueish hue of a frozen corpse. There was little Meetra could do for her. Healing was obstructed the same way meditation was, and her field medic knowledge didn’t go beyond basic treatment of minor wounds. Nevertheless, she crouched beneath the dying woman and attempted to centre herself in the Force. Around Pava, it was a mess; there was no insight to be found about how to help her. But instead, it showed her the signatures of two sentients approaching with caution.

Removing the pilot’s blaster from her hip, she crawled behind the ship and waited. _Snowtroopers_. The first one was slammed into the side of the vessel, losing his helmet and consciousness on impact, while the second one received a shot in the stomach. Meetra examined her handiwork with a blank, impassive expression. Their forthcoming death constituted the last puzzle pieces falling into place. _Now I know what that hunger means._ She hauled the lifeless bodies towards the cockpit. Falling to her knees, she placed her hands on their chests and gave herself over to the resonating call of death, without hesitation, like the many time she’d done something similar before. _I cannot force you to listen to reason, only hope that you will grow past these infantile delusions of right and wrong._ _A scathing heat_ streamed through her, submerged her every cell, awakening a ravenous longing. _A wound in the Force, more presence than flesh, and in his wake life dies… sacrificing itself to his hunger._ The cacophony of screams in her head converged into a singular cry, that of a superficial wound violently ripping all the way through. Like gushing blood, a rush of power, of raw energy poured right through her core. _From such small things, from such critical points, the universe and its masses may be moved... that is why you must be careful in all that you do, and in every choice you make._ Eventually, she achieved a focussed channel for the trooper’s very life force into Pava’s still form, for which she was merely a conduit. _Nothing is impossible with the Force._ When the flow successively faded away, Meetra slumped to the ground. She found herself eye to eye with the ashen face of the helmet-less soldier. _It is such a quiet thing, to fall._ Blood-stained mouth agape, his frozen expression displayed the inconceivable horror of his last moments. _But far more terrible is to admit it._

                                                                                                                                  

They had reached the edge of forest when Pava finally regained consciousness.

“Where are we?” she croaked.

“Still somewhere on the Force-forsaken chunk of ice that is Alzoc III.”

“So it wasn’t a nightmare after all.” Puzzled, the pilot ran her hands over her unexpectedly intact torso and face.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve scouted the area. There is a First Order shuttle ahead. Can you fly it?”

“Flying should be pretty straightforward, it’s slicing the security protocols I’d worry about.”

“We shall see. Can you walk on your own?”

“I guess I have no choice.”

“Good. Advance this way until you see the clearing ahead. There are two more patrols in the area; I’m going to take care of them in the meantime. Here, take your blaster back.”

“But - “ Surik had already disappeared in the woods.

 

The shuttle had turned out to be unguarded. The First Order apparently didn’t worry about anyone stealing it, as the controls required voice activation or an authorized code cylinder. Surik peeked through the door. “Any progress yet?”

“It’s harder than you think. Slicing really isn’t my forte. The troopers’ ID didn’t work either.”

“So their commander might still be out there. I’ll go find him. Better make do without that option, though.”

She hadn’t got far when she spotted a cloaked figure in the distance. _Looks like he found us instead._

The night providing cover, she snuck from tree to tree until she got a clear line of sight. Yet, when she raised the blaster rifle she'd taken from one of the dead snowtroopers, she found herself unable to pull the trigger. Her whole body was rendered immobile. _Curious_. The somewhat hunched figure approached until coming to a halt a few steps from her and ignited a lightsaber, drenching their surroundings in crimson light. _Volatile and with…a cross guard? Who in their right mind designs a saber like that?_ The silent Force-user cocked his head. Meetra felt something brush against her mind, again, this time prodding more insistently. She instantly threw up her shields. _Switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten. Switch the face of the +2/-2 card, the total is eight-eleven. Switch…_

Suddenly, the vise-like grip let off, causing her to stumble forward and fall to her knees. The tip of the saber was already plummeting towards her neck. She rolled to the side at the last moment and slammed a branch against the back of her assailant’s knees, eliciting a distorted curse from him as he lost his footing. She used the opportunity to sprint away towards the shuttle, against her better judgment. _Leading the enemy towards one’s allies is a plain stupid move in most circumstances. Pava had better figured something out this time._ Just as she stepped into the clearing, she found her body frozen once more. This time she fought the invisible restraints, but like Kreia’s mental chains, they would not budge. As her pursuer came up behind her, the shuttle suddenly fired a shot towards his general direction, hitting and felling two trees. Once again, the invisible hand keeping her fixed in place vanished, allowing her to jump into the open hatch of the shuttle as it start to rise in the air. Another shot lit up the darkness – and was held in place by their attacker. Nevertheless, the distraction gave them enough time to steer the  out of his range.

“Your timing couldn’t have been better. I wouldn’t have been able to get away a second time.”

“You…faced _Kylo Ren_?!” Pava looked absolutely awestruck.

“That was him?” The Jedi Killer, the scourge Snoke had unleashed on the galaxy, if her comrades’ tales were to be taken at face value?

“I can’t believe we just shook off a Knight of Ren. What happened out there, and how did you find me? Why is there blood all over my suit?”

“I’ll give you the details later. For now - do you remember where you ejected the soldiers?”          

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

None of them had been in any state to join the fight that day. Besides, the battle had been over hours before their eventual departure from the moon that now undeniably belonged to the First Order. Their intel had been completely botched, underestimating the artillery by 80%, by the same token giving no indication that a Knight of Ren would slay half of their advance within minutes. Only his sudden absence from the battlefield had given them faint hope being able to turn the tide – but with few reinforcements arriving, due to most of them being shot down before they even managed to get close, they had to withdraw hastily to at least minimize their already staggering losses.

They had been delayed by the necessary procurement of a less conspicuous – and untraceable – mean of transport. While switching ships, Surik had convinced the pilot to get rid of her stained suit to avoid inquiries, having told Pava that they’d both remained unharmed in the crash and that the blood was a stormtrooper’s. After the ordeal the younger woman had been through, she hadn’t questioned a single thing.

When Surik’s unit finally got back to their primary base on Pzob, they were greeted by an oppressively sombre mood. The Resistance had already mourned their lost fighters and all but given up on those reported missing in action. Poe hugged Pava with slightly watery eyes, and afterwards even extended an embrace to Surik, thanking her profusely for her role in the unlikely rescue. Pava took every opportunity to tell their unique story of beating the odds, as it seemed to improve morale tremendously, reminding them that no one may get left behind and proving that encountering a Knight of Ren need not equal a death sentence. 

 

Later that evening, Lieutenant Connix stood transfixed by a grainy video on the screen before her, cursing almost inaudibly. “That bastard…” She turned to Poe, who was sitting with Surik and some others who had come to hear her story. “You need to see this.”

A pale man around Surik’s age appeared, dressed in a jet-black, immaculately pressed uniform, a hat with the familiar sun-shaped emblem perched upon his flaming copper hair. _“Another cowardly terrorist attack by the Republic’s clandestine attack dogs, the Resistance, was carried out on the tranquil Legacy moon of Alzoc III. The First Order has stepped up to defend…”_

“Who’s the speaker, Kaydel?” His presence was undeniably captivating, the way he held himself, as if above all things, yet at the same time, every single word intended to pierce deeper and deeper into the audience.

“General Starkiller.” Connix spat.

“Actually, his name is Hux, but no one here uses that.” Poe added by way of explanation, eyes not leaving the screen.                                                                                                                                                       .

_“…disrupting the economy of the independent world of Yad Alzem, undoubtedly to coerce the local government to join the corrupt ranks of the illegitimate Republic. In its death throws, the New Republic has resorted to even more despicable tactics…”_

“This is just disgusting!” Poe slammed his hand on the table. “He twists the facts as he pleases, and no one except us can prove his falsehoods.”

“That’s why he is undermining our credibility. He has a way with words, I give him that.” Meetra conceded. Poe eyed her disapprovingly.

_“Once again, we have restored order and peace in the far reaches of the known Galaxy, which have been neglected. Governments like that of Yad Alzem will continue to flock to our side to receive protection from the vicious threats...”_

“Is he some sort of propaganda minister?” There was an unsettling glint of fanaticism in the general’s light green eyes, an expression of uncompromising conviction that reminded her of Revan a few years into the Mandalorian wars.

“We’ve been wondering that as well, what with the rate of these disgusting diatribes being broadcast, but he is FO High Command after all. He gave the order to fire on the Hosnian System.”

_It must be done. A silent nod, eyes never leaving the viewport..._

_Bao-Dur's grave acknowledgement, then a flurry of calibrations and a single push of a button..._

_An inferno in her mind._

Finn had joined them wordlessly. “The stormtroopers have to listen to his speeches twice a shift.” he whispered into Meetra’s ear.

_“…eradicate the greed and inequality the parasitic elite have established…”_

“He sure likes to hear himself talk.” Meetra remarked.

“And he keeps droning on and on about how twisted the Republic supposedly is. What a load of bantha poodoo.” With that, Connix turned off the recording.

“So what’s the Republic’s answer to that?” _Surely, they wouldn’t allow this slander to stand uncorrected..._

“I don’t think these propaganda broadcasts elicit any response at all. There’s no central government anymore, and the remaining members usually shy away from drawing attention by publicly speaking out against our common enemy, lest they become the target of the next superweapon they fear the First Order has in the making.” Poe turned to leave.

“That means we are the only ones taking action?” Meetra prodded incredulously.

“We do have supporters – parts of the Navy, senators, allied worlds that provide weaponry and supplies.”

“Still sounds like we’re fighting our own war to me.” she sighed, lost in thought.

Even if they managed to eradicate the First Order, what would come afterwards? Just like after the Mandalorian Wars, a victory would nevertheless leave power vacuum. Who would step in? In her time, which she remembered with more clarity now, it had been Revan and Malak turned Dark Lords of the Sith; and their attempt to unify the broken Republic had given rise to a drawn out civil war taking as many lives as they’d saved during their time as Jedi Generals. The ensuing chaos had given rise to cartels, militant factions and three Sith Lords. Hopes for history not repeating itself in the course of a Resistance take-over were slim. After all, one should not forget - _to be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best._

 


	6. Stygian Treachery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 updated!

“You’re not a sniper and the only human in our group.” That had been Sitka’s irrefutable rationale for forcing a flowing black dress with crimson embroidery on Meetra, who had agreed to Major Styx' suggestion she join his sniper unit – aptly calling themselves the Stygian Squad, a hidden reference to the mythological underworld several societies historically believed in - on a covert mission. Standing by the bar, she scanned the room for her target. Apparently, the negotiations were dragging on. Senator Hanif, representative of the Lan’var System, one of the largest investors in Kuat Drive Yards, approached her. Unlike the majority of her fellow citizens, Hanif was supportive of the Resistance’s efforts. She was the one who’d provided them with the perfect opportunity to assassinate one of the Order’s leading officers – Vice-Director Tyvar Hanley, Executive Commander of Security. Right here in Kuat, at a lavish banquet held for the more illustrous financial backers of the ship-building conglomerate - no weapons allowed, of course. Little did they suspect that the mind was actually the most deadly weapon, or the most crippling weakness.

“Are you having a pleasant time?” The Senator's simpering lilt was rather grating on the ears, but if she'd got used to her fellow Resistance fighters' accents, she'd be able to bear through this inane conversation.

“The Kuati are splendid hosts. I would have expected a heavier emphasis on the business side of things, though.”

“Be glad you’re spared that ordeal. The matriarchs are the toughest negotiators I have ever encountered. Keeps the financial backers happy, of course.”

“I wonder, Senator, why Lan’var continues to invest into KDY when they are mainly taking First Order contracts at the moment. You aren’t allied with them, after all, but reap the dividends from their conquests.”

“That decision is not mine to make. Unfortunately, senators can only do so much nowadays. Besides, Lan'var has always taken a Centrist stance. Even so, business and war don’t mix well.”

“Oh, here I thought money and conflict commonly go hand in hand.”

Hanif shook her head sadly. “I hope we will have time for an in-depth discussion later. I shall leave you to your assignment.”

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Milady, may I have this dance?” Finally, her patience and furtive glances in Hanley’s direction had paid off. _A man like that needs to retain the illusion of pursuing his prey._

“Oh, a gentleman. Certainly, Sir. Lead the way.” He gently pulled her towards the dance floor. “You’re associated with the First Order, I presume?” She raked her eyes over his form-fitting white dress uniform.

He lowered his voice. “Indeed. Vice-Director Hanley. You are Senator Hanif’s aide?” he asked as he drew her closer.

“Laila Sareen. I’m surprised you know. Considering the Lan’var System is not exactly known to be sympathetic towards your group.”

“Staying on top of the dealings of one’s foes and potential allies is far more important than focusing on those already dedicated to one’s cause. It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, Ms. Sareen.”

“The pleasure is all mine. You are a surprisingly excellent dancer, by the way. Unlike many others you really know how to lead.”

“Perhaps there are other areas in which I could surprise you.” One of his gloved slid a little lower down the small of her back, leaving no room for misinterpretation of his words.

She gave him a sultry look. “I might just be inclined to believe you. Considering your good mood, your visit to Kuat has yielded the results you’d wished for, hasn’t it?”

“That is classified. But I can assure you that the First Order’s might is growing by the day.”

“I’ve noticed. Too bad the Senator is not as thrilled by that as I am.”

“Too bad. We have good relations with quite a few members of the senate; I was hoping she too would want to be on the winning side. Otherwise, I doubt she has any chances of being re-elected in today's political climate.”

“Oh, she might still reconsider. The propaganda aspect, though, isn’t that the job of your impassive fellow officer over there?” She had given the general a small, seductive smile earlier, just to test the waters, which had earned her a cold look that was in equal parts confused and contemptuous. Perhaps he was a man of more refined tastes, preferring the company of men or exotic creatures - or the stick up his arse simply too much of a distraction. Hux’ presence had thrown the snipers for a loop, but with no way of contacting Surik while she was in the building, they could not make amends to their plan to designate the general a priority target.

Instantly, the director stiffened, clearly unhappy with their current choice of topic. _Ah, the dangerous vice that is envy._ “He is with High Command, so that is his prerogative. I take it you have seen some of his public speeches.”

“I have. He reminds me of the politicians I am surrounded by on a daily basis. Seems to like the sound of his voice.”

The director gave a low chuckle that betrayed his slightly inebriated state. “Oh, I am sure he does.”

“You’re not a member of High Command, then?”

He bent down slightly, his breath brushing over her ear. “I might soon be.” Fortunately, the older man was sufficiently attractive and well-mannered, otherwise Meetra would be battling nausea at that point.

“It’s quite stuffy in here. I should get some fresh air.”

“Of course. May I accompany you?”

“I’d be honoured.”

Once they had reached covered hallway outside of the main building, he pushed her against one of the pillars sheltered from view. Wedging a knee between her thighs, he leaned in for a famished kiss. _Unsurprisingly straightforward, apparently these officer types aren't as proper after all._ Surik tossed her head back in pretend extasy, exposing her neck in an unspoken invitation to leave kisses on or bite into the soft skin. He reciprocated by grinding his groin against her hips, causing her to let out a small gasp. This was far out of her comfort zone, but then again, so had most of her intimate encounters been, albeit in different ways and with radically different motives. _If Kavar could see her now_... _would he be even more disappointed than when she'd left for the war_? When after a few moments the director still had not made any attempts to change their location to a more suitable one, she pulled at his belt to get him out in the open.

“As much as I’d like to continue this, I can’t leave the festivities right now. I have received reports about an assassination plot the Resistance intends to carry out tonight.”

Meetra’s breath hitched. That was certainly throwing a spanner in their plans. Hopefully, the others would get the hint and withdraw immediately.

“I am aware of this. That’s why I brought you here.” It was a bold move, but if she’d read the air correctly they might have two dead FO officers by the end of the night. _Do not see every enemy as an enemy. See them instead as an ally, whether they know it or not._

“What?!” Hanley took a step backwards, his hands still on her wrists, this time in a decidedly more defensive gesture.

“We needed a safer place to talk. Attempting to change the Senator's mind on the First Order, I made some enquiries. In view of our visit to KDY, I prodded a little deeper and came across several individuals in contact with the Resistance. I feigned my support of their endeavours to find out whether Lady Hanif is involved with them. Turns out she isn’t, but that’s how I stumbled up this plot.” She laced her words with the Force to alleviate his doubts.

 _“We had to change positions to evade his investigators. We can no longer see the two of you. We won’t be able to help you from here on out.”_ came Tamila’s report through the concealed earpiece, finally working now that they were outside.

“What have you found out?” he ground out.

“There ought to be a single sniper in the vicinity, as far as I know. Most likely an attendant with poisoned drinks in the hall, too. Drawing your attention to me might even have spared you the humiliation of collapsing in midst of the festivities. But the _how_ is not the worst part.”

He pushed his body against hers again. “Tell me.”

“The one behind this conspiracy – is General Hux.” Her interlocutor gasped in surprise. “He's pulling the strings. I guess the Resistance doesn’t know, either. You’re all being played.”

All colour had drained from his face. “These are serious accusations. Do you have any proof?”

“I have no reason to lie to you.” Another subtle dose of Force Persuasion accompanied her words.  “Why aren’t you here on your own? Do business dealings with KDY normally require two extremely high-ranking officers to take part?”

“No, it has been _my_ assignment from the very beginning. I am the liaison for ship procurement…” _Fear has loosened many a man’s tongue. Even the most powerful are no exception._

“Why is Hux on Kuat, then? He doesn’t even seem to enjoy his time here.”

“I had assumed he wished to evaluate my performance, possibly recommend me for a promotion...”

“How convenient, using your hopes against you. No, he’s here to make sure your deal with KDY goes through despite your untimely death - and to receive all the accolades, of course.”

His eyes glazed over with murderous hate. “I need to confront him about this.”

“Either way, now that you’re aware of the treason, you have the upper hand.” He nodded slowly, convincing himself of the truth of her revelations. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “And before dawn, I shall have _persuaded_ Lady Hanif to see things our way. Tonight might just be the beginning of your legacy.” This seemed to assuage his reservations.

“And if she won’t budge from her position?” His lips slid down her neck again, leaving a trail of warmth.

Surik smirked maliciously. “I can be quite convincing. Besides, like you, I might be due for a promotion anyway.”

“That’s my kind of woman.”

“I’ll show you a few more tricks later. For now, I do not wish to distract you from your unpleasant task.”

“You are right. I need to get to the bottom of this conspiracy.”

“And I shall wait for your triumphant return.” She placed a teasing kiss on the base of his throat.

Hanley straightened his uniform and returned to the ballroom with brisk strides.

 

_“Eww, Surik, what was that?”_

“Did you enjoy the show? He sure did.” Meetra whispered into the pin on her collar. “Now be my eyes in return. What’s the target up to?”

_“He’s talking to Hux. They are leaving the room. Arguing hotly. Hux is yelling, something about treason - what an unpleasant sight. And - kriffing hell!”_

“What happened?”

Nayoko spoke up _. “Oh, pfassk, that’s…better than I had hoped. Hanley assaulted the general. In turn, Hux slit his throat with a dagger hidden in his greatcoat.”_

“Is the… target dead?”

_“Confirmed. Hux has his blood all over his uniform and face. He looks absolutely frantic.”_

“Maybe he’ll lose the deal and get demoted. Or worse. I don't think the Kuati are keen on having blood shed on their marble floors over a power struggle. Nayoko, I want a copy of that recording.”

_“You’re sick.”_

“No, just effective.” _Oh, poor Director, you were so close._ _And this is why a common soldier will never triumph against a Force user. Your military tactics and scheming are nothing compared to the Force._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *picturing Hanley as a younger version of Director Krennic*


	7. Fair Trade

“Wouldn’t have expected you of all people to go the sexual route, honestly.” Nayoko grimaced as she remembered the previous evening.

“Is that your diplomatic way of telling me I’m ugly?”

“The Director seemed to like you well enough.” The younger sniper spat derisively.

“Well, the three of you normally forego the chance of getting close to your targets, what with cleanly picking them off from a distance. You would be spared such indignities like having to look your victims in the eye.”

“And you prefer a more _intimate_ setting?” Sitka, who’d been the last to take a turn in the refresher, sniggered.

“I prefer at least being in the same room with the people I kill. Prevents you from forgetting what exactly it is we are doing here.”

“Ah, so we are cold-blooded killers according to you? At least we don’t get any sadistic enjoyment from-”

“Girls, stop arguing. We’ve got a new assignment. One that doesn’t require bait in any shape or form.” Tamila, their de facto leader in Styx’ absence, motioned for them to come to the holo projector. “We’ll arrive on Numisdar soon. Surik, you are to stay in the capital and wait for orders. But it’s basically a short holiday for you. Think of it as a reward for a job well done. Our mission shouldn’t take longer than a few days.”

“Awesome, stuck on a backwater planet. If that’s supposed to be a reward, I don’t want to experience the Resistance brand of punishment. At least leave me some credits so I can entertain myself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pat Yai was exactly as dingy as Meetra had expected it to be. A shady illegal trade hub with atrocious climate – oppressively humid, frequent rainstorms -  offering few activities not involving drugs, gambling or prostitution, it was a seedy spacer’s paradise. Making Nar Shaddaa appear pleasant in comparison was quite an achievement. The only upside was that booze was cheap and plenty, so her meager credits went far.

It was her third evening spent at the bar of the grimy club she had selected for its rather excellent repertoire of assorted types of brandy. She watched the people around her from the corner of her eye, but for once she was glad not to sense them, the alcohol having numbed the grating flow of the Force. Earlier, she’d been dragged into a fist fight between two human men and a mob of Niktos, though it hadn’t been clear what the altercation had been about. Probably not gang-related, if the strikingly simply attire of the skinny men and their utter uselessness in close combat were any indication.

A young man with short cropped brown hair took the seat beside her, despite most other places being unoccupied as well. _Great, here comes my next drink for free._ Struggling to talk confidently while keeping a consistent, oddly Coruscanti accent, he ordered ale and sipped on it as if needing to pace himself on such a weak beverage. Straight spine and clenched fists, he attempted to convey an air of nonchalance, but his body language gave away his inexperience. Taking a closer look, she realized his clothing was just as inconspicuous as - in fact, identical to - that of the ill-fated idiots earlier and his boots… _oh_. _What a coincidence._

“I wasn’t aware you people get shore leave.”

He slowly turned towards her, eyebrows raised in suspicion, a practised sneer on his lips. “Who might you be referring to?”

“Tell me you aren’t First Order, then. That you stole your shiny regulation boots off some hapless officer you assaulted in a dark alleyway.” His eyes widened briefly, before he forced a neutral expression on his face.

“What if I am?” _Playing bold. The FO wouldn’t be about to attempt a takeover of this swampy planet? What was the Stygians’ assignment about?_

Meetra shrugged casually. “What if I am with the Resistance?”

He almost fell off his chair, causing her to laugh resoundingly. “Don’t worry. I’m just trying to rile you up, see what you’re made of. By the way, with misguided reflexes like that, you’d be dead by now.”

The stranger struggled to regain his composure.  “So, um, splendid. Now that we have established that - would you like a drink?”

“Sure, but get us something real, something strong and smoky.” He gestured towards the bartender and ordered by randomly pointing at a bottle with an intimidating design. _Has he spent his whole life on a Star Destroyer?_

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Nayoko.” _Serves her well._ “You don’t get out very often, do you? I’m almost twice your age.” She took a sip of the pale grey beverage they’d been served. It was strong indeed, but with hints of whatever chemical Mandalorian warriors used as inhalant to arouse consciousness.

“Maybe I’m into experienced women.” He grinned slyly. “I’m Tariq. And I turned twenty last month, so unless you’re not fully human, I doubt you are more than ten years my senior.”

“Is this a mission or a pleasure trip?”

“The latter. I’m here with a few others from the Academy; we’ve just received our commissions.”

“Lieutenant, then? Where are you going to be stationed?”

“That’s classified, obviously. Though I can tell you that it’s one of the most sought-after places. A fine ship.”

“Meaning you’re Navy?”

“Exactly. But there are Army folks on our capital ships as well.” He shook his head, as if that could get rid of the effect the strong, pungent alcohol had on him. “I should be careful with my words around you, it seems. Otherwise you’ll have me figured out completely by the end of the evening.”

“Perhaps I already have.” She took another gulp and shuddered. _This is getting fun._

He leaned closer, trying to puff up his flat chest. “Have you ever been with an officer? Or would the prospect scare you?”

“Maybe I have a thing for uniforms.”

“Too bad I didn’t bring mine.”

A hysterical figure stormed towards the bar, interrupting their banter. “Tariq!”

“Adil, what’s gotten into you?”

“He’s gone...they must have followed him…”

“Who?”

“The gang that assaulted us in the city. They were out for blood, that much was clear.”

Meetra decided to join the conversation. “True, you would’ve got your skinny officers’ butts handed to you.”

He turned to Tariq in exasperation. “You _told_ her? Are you that desperate to get laid?”

“The only desperate one here is you, and I still have no kriffing clue what you are trying to tell me.”

“No…not in front of her.”

Meetra downed the rest of her drink. “Why? Maybe I can help. Unless your flagship just got downed or something?”

“Our - what?”

“Get a grip, Lieutenant.” Tariq hissed.

He slumped into the seat behind him, wringing his hands to find the right words. “They’ve got Rion. He went to the market to get some bacta for his wound. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“So what, maybe he found a willing body for… whatever he kept fantasizing about on the way here.”

“I doubt it. He wouldn’t just leave without a word. Well, do you want to explain how we lost a fellow officer to the commander?”

“No. Oh, _kriff_. Let go find him. Thanks for ruining my evening, though.” He nodded apologetically towards Meetra.

She rose from her seat alongside him. “Don’t be disappointed. Would you mind me coming with you? I was getting bored anyway. And if your combat skills are as abysmal as theirs, you’re in for an unpleasant night.”              

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                          

It _was_ indeed an unpleasant night, despite staying clear of further fights. The climate posed an added nuisance, the rising humidity bringing out the organic stench so characteristic of their well-used, but dilapidated surroundings. They’d made their way into the underworld of Pat Yai, pretending to be spacers looking for trafficking jobs – not that it had been a long way. Surik had taken the lead – though she was still pondering what she was trying to achieve by helping her supposed foe. Some sort of twisted retribution to balance the scales, saving a life for taking one? _Be careful of charity and kindness, lest you do more harm with open hands then a clenched fist._ But her actions were not born out of compassion. Instead, she intended to learn. It was a long sought-after chance to make sense of this war, adding the viewpoint of their enemies as a means to counterweight the interpretation of the modern world the Resistance had imposed on her. Even their supposed saviour Revan had turned against them; there was no telling that the Resistance would not have ulterior motives. Perhaps Kreia had been right in that _the galaxy would have fallen if Revan had not gone to war._ Yet he had dragged the Republic down with him in the end. Whatever his motivation had been, the cost was undeniable. And she would never be taken for a fool again, played by all sides, a pawn in everyone’s grand plan for the galaxy. It was her turn this time - place the pieces on the dejarik board, whisper commands in their ears, send them into battle. _It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you_. To that end, she needed knowledge. From all sources. The end would justify the means soon enough. _Apathy is death._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me do the talking. Wait here.” Tariq tried to protest, but her glare silenced him.

Surik approached the Quarren with due caution. The imposing criminal leader scrutinized her soundlessly for a few minutes before finally addressing her.

“You are newcomers to this planet. No records, either. What makes you think we would trust you? We are hardly the only place with the kind of jobs you are apparently willing to take.”

“Is discretion no highly valued commodity in this trade? We aren’t bounty hunters, what good would a reputation do us?”

They had not actually expected to be taken up on their false offer to transport sensitive freight, much less to be brought before one of the ring leaders in person. Whatever her war crimes had been – they could not have been insignificant, otherwise her mind would not keep suppressing a large chunk of her memories – she had no desire to add sentient trafficking to that list.

“You must be curious as to what your cargo and task will be. Do you have any questions?”

“I never ask questions.”

“Very well. Meet with Rona in the Attaya Pan Cantina. She will transfer the cargo to your ship.”

“Thank you.” She bowed reverently and turned on her heel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting with Rona, who had turned out to be a feisty Twi’lek, had gone without a hitch. The background presence of some of the Niktos from earlier confirmed that they were on the right track. Secretly following them as they prepared to move the intended cargo, Surik and the two officers reached a large underground structure that looked like an abandoned hospital.  

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Adil whispered.

Tariq peeked into one of the smashed windows. “Why would Rion be here anyway? He wouldn’t have involved himself with these types.”

“Who knows where this cartel gets their resources.”

Adil suddenly staggered a few steps back, dragging his friend away from her. “What’s your part in this? Maybe you’ve lured us here in order to enslave us.”

“That would be quite ironic, don’t you think? First Order officers as slaves... Tell me, Tariq, is he always this paranoid?”

“Worse. But it has served him well so far, allowing a scrawny guy like him to survive the Academy in one piece.”

“Congratulations. Now get your act together. Let’s take a look inside.” Meetra shook her head and climbed through the frame. “Come on, do I have to do everything by myself? It’s your comrade we’re looking for, not mine.”

“Why are you helping us then?”

“Boredom. Curiosity.” _Too bad you haven’t told me anything yet._

“What is your regular occupation?”

“Independent contractor, something in that vein.”

“Pirate?” He followed her and ducked once inside.

“More like a mercenary. Used to be military, though.”

“What happened?” _Ah, that got him._

“I don’t want to remember that.” One of the rare truths told on this day. “I lost my commission and that was the end of it.”

“Which rank did you hold?”

“Let’s say I’d have outranked you by far.”

“Explains the bossiness. How -”

“Enough with the questioning already. If your friend is here, every second counts.”

They combed through the complex, to no avail. There were no traces of Rion, no signs of anyone having set foot in the building for a long time. How come she still sensed so much life, so much fear in their immediate vicinity? It was a mystery – until Adil stumbled upon a blood spatter.

 Surik leaned down to inspect it. “Looks and smells human.”

“You can tell by the scent?”

“Have you ever been on a battlefield? It’s not something one would ever forget. Zabrak is more earthy, Twi’lek blood smells slightly grassy and a Duro’s…” Her companions made disgusted faces. “But of course, your preferred brand of warfare is rather clinical in this regard.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Perhaps the inhabitants of the Hosnian system can explain the concept to you. Wait, bad timing, that might actually be a little difficult nowadays…” The lack of animosity in her voice puzzled the two officers.

“You know no one of us gave that order?” Tariq replied quietly.

“So you oppose General Hux then?”

“What? No. He is a champion for our cause. But I you want to blame someone, well, it’s not us you should be talking to.” He seemed almost embarrassed.

“It’s not about blame. What intrigues me is what kind of ideology such strategic decisions are compatible with.”

“Do you think the Republic or Resistance for hesitate for more than a second if you gave them the means to obliterate us – every single being associated with ties to the First Order,  the military personnel, from the lowliest tech to High Command?  And of course our families in the Unknown Regions, too, so that we may never rise again?” He was thinking of the dishonourable treatment his family had endured after the Empire’s fall. Those with money but lacking loyality had bought their way into decent standing, but everyone else had been force to flee, losing all they’d built up for future generations.

“If they got anything done at all, it probably wouldn’t be genocide. Those responsible would be put on trial…” Somehow, she was doubtful the Republic was above mass killings in the name of necessity, regardless of his passionate words.

“Like they did in the case of the Death Stars and Starkiller Base? Like they showed mercy to all those employed by the Empire? They started a kriffing war over trade laws. Fortunately that hailed the last days of the Old Republic.”

“And how do you intend to solve the galaxy’s problems, a military junta ruling by means of martial law?”

“A large percentage of Republic systems has been always on our side, biding their time sucking up to the likes of Mon Mothma and Leia Organa until the time was right to openly support us, the legitimate heirs of the Empire!”

“So the Centrists have been backing you all this time? Where’s your Emperor, then?”

“Look-“

A muffled scream drew their attention.

“Come out, First Order scum. Hands where we can see them.” Lips pressed together tightly, Surik gave Tariq an encouraging nod.

They turned a corner to find the second officer on his knees, a blaster pointed at the back of his head. Three Niktos stood behind him, armed to the teeth. _Looks like we are in the right place after all._ Before Tariq could react, she pushed him behind a cabinet and flung the knife she carried on her belt into the forearm of the gun-wielding gang member closest to her. In the blink of an eye, she had crossed the distance between her and their would-be captors. She jerked up the arm of her first opponent, forcing him to let go of the weapon and slammed him into a wall. A well-aimed strike toward the larynx knocked the second attacker out instantly. Eyes widening as he realised that he was a dead man, the Nikto slumped down on the still kneeling Adil and pinned him to the ground. The last one charged into her, causing them both to hit the floor. The violent impact brought tears to Surik’s eyes, rendering her unable to defend herself against his chokehold. _Nobody’s watching_ … Instead of struggling against the rough, scaly hands clenched around her throat, she embraced the pain and death lingering in the room and locked her eyes with his. _You will put your gun to your temple and pull the trigger._ The Nikto stiffened. _You will put your gun to your temple and pull the trigger._ Shakily, he reached for his sidearm, held it to his head and with an innocent clicking sound, his blood showered on her face.

“What in Malachor just happened?!” Tariq coughed scanning the room, his face bearing an expression of absolute awe. _Malachor?_ She’d heard that utterance before. _What had happened there that it had turned into a synonym for hell?_

Adil crawled out from under the Nikto corpse. “Amazing. We could need people like you in our ranks.”

“I don’t doubt it. Not interested, though.” Meetra wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve. She was going to need a long, hot bath after this was over. “And now we know what Nikto blood smells like.” _But wait until you have more years fall upon you, and you will see what a shell your heart will become._ The wait was over. _  
_

“There must be facilities beneath this building; the Niktos came through an opening in the floor.”

“No wonder we haven’t found anything so far.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They discovered more than they had bargained for. Despite the clinical appearance of their surroundings, the acrid stench was overpowering. The few remaining guards posed no challenge, but Surik doubted they’d actually be of any help to those held captive there. The prospects looked correspondingly bleak for the missing officer.                                                                                                       

“It’s not slaves… but organ trade?” Adil seemed close to vomiting. “ _Kriff_. Rion might already be dead, then.”

“Depends on how efficient the cartel’s medics work.”

“Rion’s built tough.”

“He’s a bloody navigator, not a fighter.” Adil leaned against the wall, face ashen.

“Who buys this stuff? I can’t imagine anyone funding this cartel knowingly.”

“Not us, that’s for certain. The First Order would resort to cloning if we had any need for body parts. Far less messy.”

“Why abduct children to turn them into stormtroopers, then?”

“They are orphans, or unwanted burdens on their families. We take them in and provide them with a future, a home.”

“A future to die for?”

“Isn’t that a risk we all face? Besides, when it comes to war, it always the poor ones that get drafted first. The Republic is no different. They tell them it’s for glory or a stepping stone for receiving a better education. In the end, we both know it’s a ruse. War never works that way.”

Meetra couldn’t help but agree. Most of the soldiers thrown in the path of the first waves of Mandalorian warriors had been from the outer rim – adventure seekers, poor workers, those desperate to protect their families.

Tariq returned panting, cheeks flushed with urgency. “I found Rion. He’s in bad shape, but alive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shouldn’t he have awoken already?” They were gathered around a private bunk in one of the cleaner accomodations in the capital city. The incense spiral's wisps of smoke did little to repel the tiny insects so abundant at dawn, but it coated their lungs with a sweet and sticky heaviness.

“He lost a kriffing kidney and part of his liver today. Give him some time, Tariq.”

Meetra returned with a jug of fresh water. _As if any water in this climate isn’t infested with all sorts of microbes._

“I guess this … misadventure has cut Rion’s career short?”

“I am afraid so. I doubt he’s even suited for extended space travel anymore.”

“So, what does that mean for him? Early retirement? Death?”

“He's shown weakness, but he’s not a traitor! They might find a use for him on the ground… the faster we expand, the more opportunities he will have.” _Wishful thinking._

“I wish you all the best of luck then.” She rose from the stranger's bedside and put on her still blood-crusted jacked. She had already done too much. She harboured no illusions that the extraction of a few living resources and extensive destruction of medical equipment would stall the cartel's operations for longer than a few dozen rotations. And helping the First Order was pushing the envelope way too far, even though - curiously enough - she had not been made to swear an oath of loyality upon joining the Resistance. If she were seen with these officers, her allies would certainly lack forgiveness. Meetra herself wasn't sure why she had gone along with it all - she couldn't have been that bored, having lived through worse periods of forced inactivity - but the experience had been eye-opening. She had sensed the conviction of the officers, their comraderie, their competition. They were every bit as idealistic as the Resistance fighters. And if their methods didn't differ by far - as evidenced by the many ruthless actions even those proclaiming to fight for freedom and democracy had committed - the only thing standing between them were their different visions for the future. Even the destruction of the Hosnian System had been a sound strategical decision that even made complete sense within the Order's frame of moral reference. Of course, she would not voice that assessment aloud in the presence of those who considered her their comrade. Until this day, she'd learned only _their_ version of history - and who controls the past, controls the future. Meetra had to admit that she had no idea what the Resistance was hoping to accomplish once the war was over, how they proposed the Republic would flourish. Maybe the Sith were right all along - _peace is a lie_. There had been no evidence to the contrary during her lifetime. She had seen the Republic come crumbling down too many times - and not once had the government be able to protect the very people that had placed their trust in the system.

“You’re leaving?”

“Obviously.”

Tariq grabbed her by the arm in an almost pleading gesture. “How…how could we ever repay you?”

“Should we ever find ourselves on different sides of the battlefield, shoot to miss.”


	8. Gaslighting

“He is not exactly _stable_! Out of the blue, he attacked a T-70 pilot during lunchtime and nearly killed him.”

Meetra looked up, her features schooled into careful indifference. “What does that prove?”

“His inherent tendency for violence, his utter lack of control…” _Unspoken: his lack of loyalty - of trustworthiness._ Atton’s pale, handsome features flashed before her mind’s eyes. _I’m a deserter. It’s what I do._ It seems some choices allow no escaping from the consequences, regardless of one’s intentions.

“He is a soldier after all. One with honour, I believe. Finn told me the other one insulted him gravely, dehumanised him. And you are calling it an unprovoked attack?”

Pallan slammed her empty cup on the table. “I expect your full report soon. Don’t leave any detail out. I will give my assessment of his credibility then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Finn?” Meetra peeked into their usual training room and spotted her friend sitting against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. “I’ve been looking for you all over the base. Have you been hiding in here all this time?”

“Since that _incident_. Things just got too much, the way people were staring at me, their accusatory whispers. I heard Pallan yell at you earlier… was that about me?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She’s weary of you and has put you under surveillance.” Finn flinched. “Look, I see no necessity to appease idiots like that, yet I do think you could benefit from better control over your emotions.”

“That guy called me brainwashed, a sleeper agent! I’ve had people calling me worthless for two decades, why should I accept that now?”

“The way I see it, you’ve got two options here – allow them to hurt you and use the pain to strengthen yourself, then get your revenge… or ignore them, knowing your true power comes from within.” _No game of dejarik can be won without pawns, and this may prove to be a very long game._

Finn chose without hesitation. “The latter option - how do propose I do that?”

“I’m no Jedi, but some techniques are universal. Meditate with me.”

“That works, even without the Force?” He seemed intrigued. _Finn might just be the first one I don’t have to coerce into realizing his potential…_

“Of course. Manipulating the Force requires innate sensitivity, but a basic awareness can be gained by anyone. For many peoples, a certain reverence for the fabric that holds the universe together is part of their cultures. Get into a more comfortable position.” She chose to kneel, facing Finn.

“Close your eyes.” He complied. “Feel the currents around you, the swell and ebb of life. Listen to the echo of your thoughts, your heart – separated from war, from pain. Let go of past doctrine, of everything keeping you enslaved to inferiority.”

Meetra touched his mind to gently guide him, opening him to the Force like a blossoming flower, petal by petal. He sighed contentedly as he sank into the sensation of connectedness. “Remember your desire to be more, to rise above the lies they fed you.”

A familiar flicker was re-kindled, a weak, stuttering flame that promised to become a blazing inferno in due time. _Almost there, Finn. Then we will finally identify your shackles – and remove them._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is our intel better this time? I’m not keen on a repeat of Alzoc III.”

“I’m sure no one here is. Black Squadron did the reconnaissance, with Poe at the helm, we’re in safe hands.” Finn assured her.

One of her recruits came up to them, grinning. “Hey, Surik, you actually brought that antique thing with you?”

“It’s a cortosis-laced vibroblade, able to withstand blaster bolts and even a lightsaber.”

“You expect to go up against a Knight of Ren or something?” _What a disrespectful brat._  

“If I have to… Just make sure to stay out of the way. Don’t underestimate me.”

“It’s not me you should worry about.”

“I know that, Cadet. Now shut up and concentrate on the mission.” _And make sure you stay alive long enough to make it count._

“Yes, ma’am.” The sassy Twi’lek grumbled.

“Much better.” _One out of four. Well, they are no actual military force, after all. Don’t try to hold them to the same standards._

Their target was an ore mine on the moon of Koto that the inhabitants of the besieged planet had ceded to the First Order in exchange for the survival of their monarchy. Unsurprisingly, it had done them little good, as the leading families were stripped of their authority immediately as soon as the treaty was signed, retaining their positions in name only. The moon’s natural riches were essential to the aggressively expanding military organisation, as many of their superior technologies depended on the rare earth elements found in the mine. With Koto being in no position to reclaim the facilities any time soon, the Resistance decided to sabotage them to keep the First Order for harnessing the moon’s resources. It was little more than a diversion, not a decisive strategical move, but it would at least slow down the First Order’s advance. That was the thing, however – she’d seen the basic info on Starkiller the resistance had been able to gather. With that kind of engineering their enemies were nigh unstoppable. Had they used the absolutely mindboggling energy harnessing technologies available to them in a more peaceful and sustainable manner, they could power the whole Outer and Mid Rim for centuries, perhaps even millennia. Bao-Dur would have given all his limbs to have invented something like that. _He had never wanted his legacy to be the development of weapons. War had left him little choice._ How come no one realized that their resistance only delayed the inevitable? The First Order was decades ahead in many regards. Technological superiority was far harder to overcome than an overwhelming – in numbers or resolve – opposing force. One generally couldn’t outsmart such weapons of mass destruction. With the Republic’s military all but gone, the First Order could just resort to slowly solidifying their control over the Rim Territories and allow them to grow economically, thereby pulling tight the noose around the Core’s neck. Though that approach was unlikely as long as the Resistance was around. Peacetime didn’t suit officers and gave engineers less leeway. In a way, their opposition really was what kept the galaxy in the grip of war. _If the Order could be changed… or if a splinter faction were to arise… there would still be hope._

 

Surik’s team was tasked with providing back-up to allow for a smooth retreat, if it came to that. So far, their job had meant waiting, holed up near the entrance to the inner facilities. _A waste of time. What is keeping them so long?_ As if on cue, her comm crackled to life.

“Striker team’s gone, I repeat, Striker is gone.”

“Situation report?” Their leader’s baritone remained composed despite the devastating announcement.

“They ran into FO troops. We’re moving in to finish their task. What the-” An explosion drowned out the rest of the transmission. “Containment breach! Evacuate the lower levels!” _Pfassk, what had gone wrong this time?_

“We’ll do it.” She instantly recognized Finn’s voice over the comm. “We are right above the target site. We can move in and out before the gas reaches us.” He wasn’t supposed to be that close to the control rooms. _When had everyone deviated from the plan?_

“Good. Rendezvous at site Cresh in ten minutes tops. Everyone else, move out and clear the path for Support II’s retreat!”

_Minimizing casualties, of course. Ten minutes were enough to flood the whole inner compound and the tunnels leading away from it with whatever gas that had been released. If they didn’t actually believe that Finn would make it, why allow him to go in?_

Her team members looked to her expectantly. “It’s our main job to make sure everyone can get out of here. Follow me.” She wouldn’t withdraw just yet.

As they carefully made their way inside, Surik turned to the grey-haired man beside her. A former production engineer, he might be familiar with the chemical in question. “Any idea what gas we’re dealing with here?”

“Mining companies use it a Xoxin derivative to prevent corrosion of the extracted ore, as far as I know.” _Great. Extremely flammable, non-toxic – apart from the fumes. Denser than oxygen, so in small amounts it tended to pool on the ground, forming the lakes on Eres III that had risen to infamy by burning for decades after being set on fire in the war by the Mandalorian invaders. Good news for tall people, though._ “However, I have no idea why the security measures weren’t sufficient.”

“So if we stand tall and refrain from opening fire, we should be fine?”

“For a short stretch of time, maybe.”

 

Inside, chaos had broken out. Apparently, the Order had been watching them from the very start, if their precise attacks were any indication. Several teams had barely got away from the advancing stormtroopers. According to their reports, they were vastly outnumbered. Surik gave orders to secure the exit to her team members and rigged a panel to manually gain access to the tunnel system leading to the engineering sector and main controls. A young fighter grabbed her by the shoulder.  “Ma’am, didn’t you get the order? We are withdrawing!”

“But Finn’s group is still down there!”

“If they are, they are long dead now. These tunnels are completely flooded with gas.” Not even five minutes had passed. If they’d even made it to the control room, they were trapped, awaiting the slow and cruel death of asphyxiation. Not bothering with a reply, she shoved the recruit out of her way and proceeded to pry the nearby tunnel entrance open.

“What the- ma’am, you can’t be serious!” His yelling caused a captain, who’d just run past them, to turn around.

“Surik, desist your efforts now! That’s suicide.”

“I leave no one behind. Whether I’m willing to risk my life, that my decision to make.”

 _“We can’t hold them back anymore… need to retreat asap.”_ The comm squealed again.

Surik patted the boy’s shoulder. “Go.”

The other officer pulled his cap into his face and averted his eyes. “Get out of here now, Feris. Surik’s blood won’t be on our hands.”

_Still your breathing. Let the trace amounts of air in your lungs hold you. The Force can sustain you... listen to it._

She’d merely taken a few steps into the barely lit corridor before the silvery gas reached up to her throat. Surik knew she’d survived similar situations before by relying on the Force. Still, every single time she applied the technique known as breath control, it required a huge leap of faith. She felt Finn’s presence – he was terrified, but still alive. His terror guided her through the tunnels like a bright, frantically pulsating beacon. She almost slipped twice on the uneven floor. By now, the gas reached all the way up to the ceiling. Several agonizing minutes of stumbling through the labyrinthine facilities later, she spotted the control room door. Someone had removed the casing of the panel beside it and clearly attempted to override the access circuits. Moving closer, Surik stepped on a soft, cylindrical object. A leg. She kneeled to identify the corpse. A female Togrutan. _So that’s the unlucky someone_. _At least it isn’t Finn_. Apparently, the woman’s efforts had been in vain – the door would not budge. A through scan of the room showed a sort of ventilation shaft beside the control room. Climbing into it brought Surik face to face with a crouching man, the whites of his widened eyes the only thing visible in the darkness. At that moment, she realized two things. Firstly, the gas did not yet reach up here. Secondly –

“Finn!”

“Meetra? Stars, what are you doing here? How did you get through the gas?”

“I would ask you the same thing, if we had time for idle chatter. Does this tunnel lead into the control room?”

“It does. Gregorya accidentally disengaged the security of the ventilation system when she tried to open the door. It saved my life, but I still can’t get down there. The room is full of gas.”

“Not yet. Do you have the override codes for the main frame?”

“Serno gave them to me before he, well… But how do you intend to access the consoles?”

“Same way I survived my way here. What do I need to do?”

“Unlock the maintenance mode. Mess up the droid’s programming. Move the assembly arms into positions that will cause them to crash into one another upon restarting. And activate the protocols for re-oxygenation while you’re at it.”  

“Got it.” She squeezed past Finn, eyes still getting used to the lack of light. For a fleeting moment, she had the impression that the younger man tried to hold on to her, to pull her into a hug. She could not afford any distractions now, not even for comforting a friend. Sinking into the reassuring sustenance provided by the Force, Surik crawled towards the main controls. The tunnel suddenly gave way beneath her, causing her to fall to the floor. As she lifted her aching upper body, her eyes were swimming with tears. She barely managed to resist the urge to draw a desperate breath.

The main console was easy to identify. The large view screen behind it provided an overview of the mining facilities and equipment – the very droids and manufacturing apparatus she was supposed to destroy. _All these casualties, for what?_ _Small-scale sabotage?_ On a platform above, she spotted a large number of stormtroopers, climbing the railings or upon the shoulders of others, frantically trying to reach the shrinking layer of breathable air. Several of them had removed their helmets, not caring about the infraction of regulations in their last moments. They were close enough for Surik to spot the beads of sweat dropping from their foreheads. _So young_. As soon as the Xoxin was removed and the air quality returned to an acceptable level, the containment doors would open automatically. That might allow the stormtroopers to cut off their escape route. On the other hand, leaving the enemy soldiers to their fate would buy them ample time to get away. Yet, selectively activating the filtration system brought the risk of Finn suffocating right above her. And if she missed a section of their intended route, the result would be the same for him. A satisfying beep indicated that the system had switched into maintenance mode. Her fingers flitted across the display as she made the necessary adjustments. A loud, mechanical growl verified that the filtration system had started operating. As the Xoxin levels dropped, the troopers slumped to the ground in exhaustion, frantically looking around. One of them locked his eyes with her, face becoming stiff in comprehension. Despite some others also noticing her, surprisingly no one spring into action. Surik gave a mock salute and turned to leave the room through the ventilation shaft.

 

Poe had actually waited for them until the last moment, despite knowing they would come under heavy fire as they left. Meetra was sure she would have to face a harsh reprimand by her superiors. But that didn’t matter – she’d extracted her prospective disciple and completed the mission. The Resistance’s opinion be damned. She and Finn sat huddled in the back of the small transport vessel. Enough people had died that day, so they had the passenger room all to themselves.

“You look like crap.” Finn wrapped the itchy blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Meetra had caught a glimpse of own reflection in the view screen. The endeavour had proven more taxing than she would admit. Her face was deathly pale, bloodshot eyes rimmed with black, the veins around her temples protruding. _Dark side corruption._ She was already familiar with the inevitable signs. The peculiar nature of her remaining connection to the Force had rendered her unable to tap into it by natural, healthy means until the Wound she represented could begin to heal. Alas, it never did, what with the persecution and raging war choking the galaxy, as well her choices and passions allowing little room for recovery. At one point, she remembered vaguely, Atton had looked much worse than her. She had no doubt his corruption was due to her influence. He had even claimed as much, after a particularly bloody battle that had made him lose control. That she was worse than Revan. She had not taken kindly to that particular allegation and slapped his face, reopening the stitches on his chin. She’d watched the blood pool in his collarbone, had called him deprived and sadistic, nothing more than an assassin willingly killing for his masters. In response, he had taken her roughly against the navigation console, in a twisted way of expressing his craving for her approval, desperate for something – pain, ecstasy – to numb the guilt. It had not been the only time they had crashed into each other like that, both yearning for something the other was too broken to give.

“How did you do that? You didn’t even bring an oxygen mask.”

“Practice.”

“That’s impossible.”

She pulled him close, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Nothing is impossible with the Force.”

Finn’s breathing hitched. “But… you… aren’t…you said you weren’t Jedi…”

“We can discuss this later, away from prying ears.”

“Poe is our friend – you don’t trust him?”

“Being Force-sensitive in this day and age is as much a death sentence as it used to be in my time. I don’t want to get him involved, for his own good.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“General Organa has the Force, too, she’d understand!”

“She is inexperienced and can only rely on a few fragments of Jedi teachings to guide her understanding. She would merely see the Dark Side in me. After years of fighting, I’m too broken to be the paragon of light a Force Sensitive supporting the Resistance is expected to be.”

“Couldn’t the Force aid the healing process?”

“Theoretically, yes. But what if it’s your very connection to the Force that’s damaged? I am an abnormality, a wound in the fabric of life.”

“But why does that imply depending on the Dark?”          

“It doesn’t. I refuse to make that artificial distinction. The Force is all-encompassing – life and death wrapped up in one. To the Force wielder, it is but a tool – like a blaster. Whether I kill by means of choking someone with the Force or simply shooting him, it is a death I am responsible for. Whether I allow it to weigh on my conscience is not a matter of alignment, but of my goals and ideals. It isn’t even the intention that counts, but the echoes your actions cause. Sometimes, kindness and mercy can lead to far more suffering than violence could result in – and vice versa. The Jedi have repeatedly debilitated their organisation by priding themselves in pacifism while at the same time taking lives to keep their order intact. It’s hypocrisy, pure and simple. As is claiming to have compassion but refusing to act. To add insult to injury, all the blood they have on their hands is made meaningless by their assertion that _there is no death, there is only the Force_.”

Finn bit his lower lip, as he contemplated her explanations.

“You deserted because you refused to kill for the Order. Tell me, is taking lives any easier now that you’re doing it in the name of the Resistance?”

Something in his force signature shifted, catching her attention. _There it is, the blockage, the source of weakness._

“I never expected to keep fighting after I left. Sometimes, I feel trapped. I keep reminding myself of our ideals, but it seems nothing can actually justify killing. Especially the people who are what I once was.”

“It’s not supposed to feel ok. Your intuition is correct. We may try to sugar-coat the act by giving all sorts of elaborate reasoning why we are on the right side. But on the other hand – consider this: Is it kind to save someone merely so they can suffer a worse fate later on? Is it just to refuse to kill someone in order not to give in to bloodlust, knowing they might commit atrocities? It’s selfishness, in both scenarios, a refusal to shoulder the consequences of the so-called darker choice.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I had General Hux on his knees before me, should I make him suffer for his crimes, use to Force to draw out his agony, make him bleed, push all sorts of horrifying imagery into his mind? Or would that make me worse than him, thus convicting myself by my own judgment? Kill him or show mercy – a luxury neither the inhabitants Hosnian Prime nor the Stormtroopers will ever experience. It’s a choice that has nothing to do with light or dark. The Jedi would make him stand trial, fully knowing that the public humiliation would hurt him more than the quick, respectable death of going down with his ship, for example. A Sith might let him live as well, either strike up an alliance for power gain or simply to amuse himself by torturing his captive. What would you do, Finn?”

“I don’t know… I just want him gone, unable to give further commands like that, unable to continue his Stormtrooper Program. I do not wish death upon anyone.”

“Even though you fully intended to blow up Starkiller base?”

“That was not my plan! I only wanted to help Rey.”

“But you went along with it. Putting a single life before that of hundreds of thousands. You’ve told me what went on there. Only because you didn’t want to dirty your hands doesn’t mean you would not have condemned Phasma to death. A shameful, miserable one at that. What was your desire - revenge?”

“She humiliated us, sent us out into the battlefields to die-“

“So she would have deserved it? Be honest, Finn. Do not attempt to deceive me, even though you have successfully hidden the truth from yourself.”

“I… for once, I felt like I was in charge. I had power over her.”

“A reversal of roles, so to speak. You’re putting your own life before that of others. It’s indeed a kind of assertion of power – you want to prove that you are better than them now that you are on the right side. And that's how a Jedi falls - he believes himself above the rest. A true Jedi would fight for the sake of others, never for their own goals. No one can live up to these standards, so they have to make amendments and deceive themselves. Few people on this base, if any, could ever muster the required degree of selflessness. Dameron – he relishes the admiration he gets. Organa is driven by the need to be in control. Many others simply want revenge for their families or messed-up lives.”

“And Skywalker has been absent all this time…” Finn supplied.

“That actually reflects the attitude of the Jedi of my time. Like them, Skywalker is probably afraid of facing the Dark. Both the Jedi and Sith are fully dependent on the Force, and have become flawed for it. Regardless of their assertions, the Jedi know power. Over thousands of years, they never turned from power, from inflicting their will on the galaxy. In their respective quest for dominance, both sides refuse to acknowledge the possibility of choosing to use the Force without necessarily bending to either extreme.”

“How do you know all these things about the Jedi?”

”I used to be one.”

He recoiled in surprise. “What happened?”

“War took its toll. We were young and felt invincible, incorruptible. In the end, we all lost our way. Some much more than that.” _It is not possible to walk away from such things unscarred. To keep living when the universe dies around you._ “I became an exile. It was during my time in the Outer Rim that I finally realized the real cost of those artificial divisions - that the struggle between Light and Dark is tearing the galaxy apart.”

He nodded quietly, letting the new knowledge about his companion sink in.

“Finn, you are stronger than you know. If you find you can’t trust me after all… At the very least, trust in yourself. Never doubt what you have done.”

Deeply-rooted darkness flashed behind his eyes. _Oh, Finn, what if you truly are like me? An unnatural whim of the Force?_

“Meditate with me.”


	9. Desperate Measures

“Beep-wee-doo?”

The violet astromech whistled hesitantly under her scrutiny.

“I’m just taking a look, I won’t mess with your circuits…yet.” As soon as she’d grown accustomed to the modern variant of Binary, Meetra had taken to re-familiarising herself with basic engineering, which provided a stimulating - though mostly frustrating - intellectual pursuit: Droid technology had changed significantly since her time. The majority of the computing arrays relied no longer on electro-mechanical relays, but on crystal-based semiconductor transistor grids, the structures barely visible to the naked eye. She was able to identify the basic functional groups, but making adjustments was still by and large beyond her expertise. 

“Breee!”

“Hey, have some faith, little one.”

Light footsteps came up behind her. “You _do_ know that’s my droid you’re tinkering with?” Pava remarked sternly.

“Really? Why didn’t he tell me? I think he likes the attention.”

“Come on, BB-3. If your calculations come out wrong because you’re a little coward and allowed her to mess with you…”

“I haven’t changed a single thing about his mechanics or programming. Rest assured that I have no intention of sabotaging your flying, considering my life is in your hands more often than not, too.”

“Right.” She smiled apprehensively. “Listen, I actually came to talk about Poe… I need to ask something of you.”

Taken aback, Meetra craned her head to look up at the pilot, simultaneously releasing the droid. It started to buzz around his owner’s feet in small, rapid circles, in an attempt to get back into her good graces. “What could I possibly help you with? Aren’t you much closer to him than I’ll ever be?”

“In some ways, perhaps.” There was something outright accusatory in her words. ”In a more literal sense, though… Anyway, what I’ve been meaning to say-” Pava took a deep breath. “Don’t break his heart.”

Her strange request made Meetra chuckle. “Even if I planned to, how would I be able to hurt him anyway? Our relationship is… casual at the most.”

“Is it?” It truly was, from her point of view at least. Poe had sought her out on several occasions, growing bolder each time in his advances, though always remaining polite and courteous. Her curiosity had led to a few stolen moments, needy mouths and hands frantically exploring each other’s fatigued bodies after missions, quiet trysts to console their quivering minds whenever bad news reached the headquarters, staring up into the dark starry sky afterwards, lying side by side without speaking. Romantic notions had never figured into Meetra’s approach to relationships, as she considered attachment dangerous, a weakness that prevented doing what’s necessary. Not that she feared it pushing her closer to the dark side, but with her natural tendency to form bonds, love was too strong an emotion with the potential to tear her - or the target of her affections - apart. Caring about her companions had proven distracting enough - Kreia had tried to make her realize that on many occasions - and it seemed to have doomed them in the end, if her recurring nightmares were any indication. Mical lying prone, face and hands so pale, so white all over he virtually glowed in the darkness of a black and red hall. With his calm, almost serene eyes, he looked positively angelic, the peaceful picture marred only by a syringe sticking out from above his left wrist, a maze of dark veins protruding arount it like tainted nervures on a blighted leaf. _People say killing Jedi is hard. It’s not, you just have to be smart about it. There’s way of gassing them, drugging them, making them lose control, torturing them._

“Stars, Jess, are you jealous?”

“No, of course not. I’m merely watching out for my friend. Like you protect Finn all the time even though that gets you in scalding hot water with some people.” Pava squirmed uncomfortably. “Look, I know you’re fighting for a cause that’s not your own. You haven’t lost any loved ones to the Empire or the First Order, you don’t even know what these regimes are, or were, like. I wouldn’t blame you if one day you decided that you’ve had enough of war. But Poe has dedicated his life to the Resistance. If you left, he’d be devastated.”

“That sounds suspiciously like blackmail. Besides, what I’m really sick of is people questioning my loyalty.  I risk my life like everyone else, why would I vie to be sent to the frontlines if I wasn’t completely convinced of our cause?” _Because I know my chances of survival are significantly higher than that of your average blaster-slinger. Because I won't find the truth by holing up in headquarters.  
_

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Just… be considerate of him, okay?”

“Sure. Should I ever plan to desert, I’ll give you an advance warning so you can step in and console him.” _A bunch of crazy people, these pilots. Continuously defying gravity takes its toll, after all.  
_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finn was showing great progress during their meditation sessions. He was fully opened to the Force, nevertheless something kept him tethered in the shadowy recesses of his mind, a jumbled mess of Commands, Mantras and Rules. It prevented him from actively reaching into the power lying before him. Meetra hadn’t seen fit to tell him of his sensitivity yet, so he had accepted the expansion of his senses and consciousness as a normal side effect of the conditioning gradually losing its hold over him. He wouldn't know any better.

It was during one of their semi-regular meetings that a flash of pain struck Meetra without warning, right into the very core of her being. The sickeningly familiar sensation took her breath away and blurred her vision. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, she curled up on the floor clutching her chest, writhing in agony.

“Meetra, what’s wrong with you?” Finn crouched over her, voice trembling with concern.

She tried to focus on his amber eyes to steady herself, her eventual reply coming out as a terrified whisper. “They… are dead. So many of them… ripped from life all at once.”

“Who?”

Meetra groaned and threw her head back _._ Desperate, bloodied hands grasped inexorably at her heart, clawing out tiny pieces before succumbing to the inevitable void. _Make it stop, let go of me…make it stop…end it...  
_

“Look at me. You need to calm down. Take deep breaths. Remember what you taught me? Separate yourself from this pain, shut out the noise.”

The trembling woman nodded numbly and with closed eyes, she bit her lip until the physical pain and coppery taste brought her back into reality.

“They… my recruits. Several units just died within seconds.”

“How is that possible? Why did you feel that?”

“I form bonds with everyone I interact with. The sort of attachment the Jedi eschew. But I can’t help it, it’s not a conscious choice.”

“Sometimes, I think I catch a glimpse of Rey’s emotions… is that the same thing?”

“Possibly. In your concern for each other, you might have formed a Force bond as well.”

Finn let her words sink in, forehead scrunched up in overwhelming confusion at the situation and the revelation about Rey. In his naïveté and accidental pacifism, his desire to do good and to avoid killing, he reminded her of the young man who had wished for nothing more than to become her Jedi apprentice. His concern for her had been one of the factors contributing to his demise, as had been her blindness. In her arrogance, she had murdered all she’d vowed to protect. Atton had been only been the last, perhaps most significant victim in a long string of corpses left in her wake. In the end it had been Jaq, the one he had tried to outrun und banish from existence by lying and denying, who’d slain Mical, marking his brief return with a trail of blood and poison. His fall had been in the making for months, such a quiet, terrifying thing, the darkness welcoming him back almost tenderly. Each careless quip, each kiss, every single mark she’d left on him, each line he’d traced on her body with sharpened nails or knives, had spelled his damnation. Worst of all, she had not felt a thing when her companions had perished. The anonymous sea of faces glaring and tearing at her in nightly visits, the recruits that had just drawn their finals breaths before space claimed them like quicksand, all those deaths resonated within her. Cruelly, the ones she had chosen to be of importance to her had left her life without a sound. Bao-Dur had died as silently and purposefully as he’d lived. None of the others had shared their pain with her in their last moments. The vicious irony of it had nearly been enough for Meetra to agree with Kreia’s views, to resort to hating the Force.

“Can you stand?” The fog around her lifted slowly, but there was no relief for her inner turmoil in sight.

“I don’t think so. Go to the War Room to find out what’s going on.”

 

Finn didn’t bother with decorum or even knocking as he burst into the large command centre. Those present, however, were too caught up in the situation unfolding on the screen and holo projections before them to even notice him.

“No word yet?” Leia Organa’s query was accompanied by a small sigh.

“No, Ma’am, there are absolutely no signs of them.”

“We should send reinforcements.” Admiral Statura spoke up, his eyes transfixed by the empty map. “We have three wings of fighters standing by-“ He followed Organa’s surprised gaze towards the door, where Finn fidgeted, trying to think of a way to explain himself.

“Finn, what is the matter?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Captain Pallan gave him a smothering glare. “You’re not supposed to be –“

Organa held upon her hand. “He has every right to join the council. I get the impression he might be of help.” With measured steps, she walked over to Finn. “Perhaps Poe has told you that we launched an attack on Telaal Interchange Station with the intention to board it. It’s a hub for First Order resupplying activities. We are not sure why, but our strategy has not resulted in the smooth takeover we were expecting. Do you have any idea what advantage the enemy might have had?”

“They are all dead.” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

“How so?”

“I…” _Think of something plausible!_ “I didn’t know about this mission. If I had… I would’ve advised against it.” _Buying time. Think, idiot..._

The general’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“The First Order has access to a multitude of advanced defensive mechanisms.” A blatant lie, though they most likely did rely on technologies protecting against boarding attempts. He just had no idea what they actually could do in that regard. _But you do lie for your friends, if necessary, right?_ “Their stationary bases being especially vulnerable, if they somehow deduced their hubs were at risk, they would have put these measures into place.”

“If I remember correctly, you used to work in sanitation, Finn. How would you of all people know such things?” There was something about Pallan’s anger that he could not quite place. It was not directed at him _per se_ , and there was a tinge of fear that threw him a loop.

“They used to demonstrate their power to the troopers daily. And the protocols we we’re drilled to follow…well, if our people were spotted, they are all dead.” _Why was he so powerless that he had to resort to deceit?_

“So we should have dispatched the X-Wings immediately.” Statura all but pleaded with the Resistance leader.

Finn steadied his voice. “If they are dead already, what’s the point? You’ll only send more people to their deaths.” Being untruthful towards his superiors gave him a strange, entirely unwelcome sense of freedom and accomplishment. He pointed towards the looping holo of the area recorded just before the failed attack. “I…recognize those formations from training simulations. It’s a tactic designed to trap the enemy by giving them a fake opening for boarding attempts.” Captain Pallan inhaled sharply, but remained silent.

Organa’s narrowing eyes bore into his, as if searching for proof. With an affirming, if resigned, nod she turned towards the main communication console and opened an encrypted channel. “Black Leader, do a covert sweep of the sector. Keep your distance. The enemy has likely laid a trap for us, don’t be baited. Report in upon finding any signs of our troops.”

Without awaiting Dameron’s reply, she motioned for Finn to leave, her lips pursed in a tight smile.


	10. Poisoning the Well

Another day, another battle - it was an arduous rhythm the Resistance had settled into. Naivarra was the latest addition to the list of asset-rich planets the ailing Republic was obviously too weak to protect in the slightest. For the Resistance, de facto the only active armed forces not limiting their engagements to a planet or sector, that meant even more pointless warring over resources that weren’t even theirs to harness. It seemed their opposition was no longer about ideology or the will of the people, but about dominance and keeping the dwindling number of Republic supporters in power. The result of a landslide victory in the recent supposedly _democratic_ elections, the newly-formed government had decided to merge Naivarra into the growing dominion of the First Order. Meetra could easily see why – the inhabitants had never been able to sell much of the high-quality crude oil so abundantly found in their planet’s crust to Republic factories, as trade limitations favoured Core and Mid Rim systems in that regard. The private, sector-wide markets were rife with corruption and not nearly as lucrative.

With the support of the current opposition and local patriotic militia, the Resistance had launched a frontal assault, not bothering with subtlety for once due to their enemy's limited manpower and fragile footing. Intended as a quick and crippling strike, their attack had turned into drawn out carnage. They all were at the end of their strength and patience, having spent days alternatingly gaining and losing ground. Mainly losing people, though, Resistance and locals alike. At least their X-Wings had prevented the First Order from sending reinforcements to the surface. Only the appearance of a capital ship would turn the tide in their opponent’s favour for good as it would enable them to carry out devastating air strikes. However, if High Command hadn’t managed to spare a single Destroyer over the past four days, it was likely that they assumed the Stormtrooper battalions stationed on Naivarra were sufficient to withstand and emerge victorious over the much smaller force of the Resistance. So far, there was little indication to the contrary. In the scorching heat, morale was particularly low. Thus far, Meetra’s unit had suffered merely three losses on the second day, making them one of the most successful groups.

When Pallan’s regiment came under heavy artillery fire, Meetra ordered the remaining thirty-two fighters under her command to aid them, against her better judgement, tasking them with keeping the enemy at bay from their entrenchments at the artillery unit’s flank. Instead of joining them, she crawled towards a group of tanks breaking away from the main formation, relying on the Force to anticipate the trajectory of the grenades peppering the ground around her. The flat, off-white armoured vehicles slid across the coarse gravel, almost inaudible despite their weight. Meetra struggled to keep up with them while avoiding being spotted. They were headed towards an extensive valley. As she peeked over the edge of a geological formation to survey the area, she realized with a start that the Resistance had fortified the wrong areas all along. Up to that point, the First Order’s manoeuvres had been nothing but distractions to keep them away from the substantial army they had amassed at the valley’s entrance. _They cut us off from the main battlefield. This is getting ridiculous – how come they always outwit us? Shouldn’t it be the other way round? Who are we actually up against? Or rather, what short-sighted idiot is in charge of devising our strategies?_ Their enemy’s ingenious approach reminded her of Revan’s elaborate plans – unfortunately, they were on the wrong side in this regard. _This is how the Mandalorians must have felt._ It was utterly humiliating. _How could the Resistance possible have survived thus far? Something appears to have changed after Starkiller. Is there a mole in their ranks after all? Or had their luck finally run out?_ She wished she had the ability to sense thoughts effortlessly, indiscriminatingly without attracting attention. Some of her comrades were like open books to her, but only those considering her their friend. Such was the power of bonds. Everyone else would be in for a rather painful, protracted experience. However, Meetra had realised early on that she usually did not need to know what went on in her opponents’ minds if she could simply push all sorts of tormenting images and thoughts into their heads. The resulting fear and agony would bring them to their knees sooner or later anyway. Having been on the receiving end of this power thanks to Kreia, she knew that even most techniques for creating mental barriers could not keep those creeping vines of horror out.

Due to the region’s reliance on oil production, it was densely populated, small clusters of housing dotting the landscape between the numerous extraction facilities. At the edge of the valley stood the tall cylindrical oil tanks, lined up like a necklace. The pipelines led up to them in an intricate maze, apparently en route providing fuel for the residential districts’ power plants as well. Her comm crackled with an incoming transmission. “Besh Leader to all available personnel near Zhagyll Valley, convene at Position 334-276 asap.” That seemed to be right above the oil tank site. _At least someone is taking action._ She checked up on her team – still entangled in battle, though things appeared to be looking up. Leaving Finn in charge had proven to be a good decision. They would do well even without her. That clinched it for Meetra. _Go where it counts._

 

The target position was devoid of life. Getting there had taken her a significant amount of time, but then again, few others could have been in the immediate vicinity, either. Her knees were shaking from exertion, walking on the uneven surface littered with sharp, medium-sized rocks had taken its toll. She sensed a mere handful of life signs around her -  and far more recent deaths. The beige sandtrooper armour made a corpse stand out from the uniform anthracite of the landscape. _Perhaps they intercepted our communications._ A far worse scenario took shape in her mind: it had been intended as a trap, but the operation had backfired. _If that’s the case, why has no one informed me? Admittedly, I shouldn’t have followed the tanks in the first place…_ Yet the urge to pursue them had been overwhelming - had the Force guided her? She decided to go after the remaining people. If they were First Order, maybe she could get some valuable insights into their plans.

Meetra soon found two Resistance fighters crouching behind an excavation vehicle. They barely looked up when they spotted her approaching, apparently having giving up on the notion of surviving the day. _Answers, at last._

“I got orders to proceed to this position, what is going on?”

The red-headed man gave a coughing reply. “Aren’t you with the Aurek forces?”

“I am, but I got cut off from my unit. The First Order is amassing troops and artillery at the canyon leading to the valley-“

He waved his hand dismissively. “We are aware of that. While we were busy overpowering their small diversions, their main force already got halfway across the valley.” His young companion whined quietly, drawing her attention to his perforated stomach. His intestines had been ruptured by shrapnel, but the stomach lining remained intact, otherwise its acidic contents would have killed him already. Notwithstanding his stubborn attempts to lie still in order to survive a little longer, the heat and distance from their main forces spelled his fate - he would not make it.

“Stars…And what were we supposed to achieve here?”  

“That transmission was meant for Besh team members only. No idea why you got it on your frequency. Too bad a small number of Stormtroopers got here while we were waiting for recon. Took them out before they could report our presence, but we lost too many people. That’s why Lurant has gone in himself.”

The name didn’t ring any bells. “Alone?”

“Sure. Don’t need more than one man to do what he has to.”

“And what is that?”

His response made the blood freeze in her veins.

 

 

After a downright frantic sprint up the myriad of steps leading up the claustrophobically narrow spiral staircase to the control tower, a breathless Meetra stumbled through the door, causing the Resistance major working on a console inside to whip around, blaster drawn.

“Kriff, what are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Unlike you - my duty. I do not need to explain myself to you."

“Not even when you intend to deactivate the pressure controls on the tanks to flood the entire valley?”

“How could you know that?” He took a step towards her, lowering his firearm. “Doesn’t matter now.  Listen, this is our only chance at preventing the First Order from overtaking this planet. It’ll engulf their forces in crude oil within minutes.”

“And with the household appliances still running it’s just a matter of time before until the whole area goes up in flames! Has this option been in consideration from the very beginning? Is this the kind of course of action you prepare at the war table?”

Lurant shook his head. “I remember you from a training session on strategy. Weren’t you the one who said a good leader had to be prepared to make tough decisions?”

“I never advocated sacrificing the civilian population for a _pfassking_ tactical advantage!”

“This is my responsibility to take. I would not force anyone to carry out an order like that.”

“How noble. I’m sure the tens of thousands of civilians down there will appreciate the sentiment.”

“A fraction of this planet’s population. I am sure they would gladly give their lives knowing it enabled us to a far larger number of enemy combatants and free Naivarra, thereby preventing further carnage.”

“Do you even hear yourself? That General Hux would argue the same way about the Hosnian System, I am sure.”

“How _dare_ you compare me to that scum? Stand back.”

A sad smile spread across Meetra’s lips as she lifted her palm in a vaguely placating gesture. To the major’s surprise, his blaster was subsequently ripped from his grasp, flying right into her outstretched hand.

“Then you leave me no choice. I cannot allow you to sacrifice the civilian population of this whole region just to stall the advance of the First Order.”

He wasn’t even listening, transfixed by the weapon in her hand, the blaster now trained at him. “What in all Malachor-“ His interjection caused reality to crumble around her like a shattering mirror. Ani'la Akaan. The Great Battle, the last stand of the Republic. _The tattered remnants of our fleet, the largest we could gather, but it was damaged, weakened and vulnerable. The Mandalorians couldn't resist. They tore into us like beasts, shredding our ships to scrap as we fought back. I remember the look you had when you turned to me. It was the longest you'd ever looked at me. You didn't say anything—just a nod._ And then the world was set ablaze, as was her mind with the crushing realization of the consequences her order to activate the Mass Shadow Generator had resulted in. The reverberations from the weapon’s effects had been so strong, Force-Sensitive people had felt the end of the Mandalorian Wars from across the galaxy. With the press of a button, Malachor V had been doomd to become a graveyard world, the majority of the Republic fleet – except for those loyal to Revan alone - crushing into the planet’s surface alongside the remaining Mandalorian forces. _The end did not always justify the means._ It should have been her grave as well. A part of her had died that day. Perhaps it was the part capable of mercy for those who opposed her. /

Lurant’s high-pitched yelling made her aware of her surroundings again. “Put down the weapon, that’s an order!”

“No.” _To believe in an ideal, is to be willing to betray it._

Not taking away her eyes from Lurant’s shocked face, she pulled the trigger.

 

In a daze, she staggered through the sedimentary formations, past the two soldiers she’d spoken to earlier, without sparing them a single glance. The redhead was still cradling his comrade protectively, but appeared just as motionless, his complexion doughy. The faint bruise on his throat blended with the sunburned hue of his skin. Meetra was headed for an abandoned vehicle she’d spotted earlier. To her immense relief, the large speeder was still functional and would allow her to bridge the considerable distance in a few minutes as opposed to hours of walking under the blazing suns. As she got closer to her team’s last known location and back into the transceiver range, she pulled out her comlink.

“Finn, do you copy?”

Static greeted her.

“Finn, do you read me?”

“Ma’am! You’re back!” Anila’s familiar voice replaced the unnerving crackling. “Things have gone foobar. Get to LZ 5 for extraction. We are almost there!” The Togrutan was one of her most promising recruits, excellent with a blaster, even better when it came to staying level-headed in the heat of battle.

“We have orders to retreat?” _Once again, we are running, like kath hound pups with their tails between their legs._

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What about Finn?”

“He’s with us, his comlink broke when he-“ Meetra felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“Debriefing on the way out. I’m 7 clicks from the target site.”

“We won’t leave without you, ma’am.”

 

Corun, who’d suffered minor burns to his haggard, already strangely deformed face, pulled Meetra into the hovering shuttle. Finn was nowhere to be seen.

“We’re so glad you made it, ma'am.” Anila leaned over to adress her.

“Did Pallan’s position get overrun despite our intervention?”

“No, we dealt the enemy a significant blow and were actually able to advance, but other teams weren’t as lucky.”

“What happened?”

“I’ve not been able to verify it, but I heard the government granted an amnesty to opposition fighters. They laid down their weapons straight off, leaving us to fend for ourselves.”

“What!? These backstabbing cowards…”

 “I guess the FO applied pressure on the ruling party. Maybe they made huge gains elsewhere. I mean, it’s the Naivarrans’ call…”

“And if they are unwilling to fight, we stand no chance. Stars.” Meetra sunk back into her seat and stared at the ceiling. “We lost so many good people here.” _And for what?_

“Six of us didn’t survive." Anila idly scratched a scab on the back of her hand. "Oh, by the way, I found Finn.”

“You _found_ him?” _How had he gone missing in the first place?_

“Yeah, he’s with the other injured ones. He took a shot to the left shoulder, should be fine with a little bacta and a sling for a couple of days. You know, this is all Pallan’s fault, seriously.” Anila explained, bubbling over with agitation, causing Meetra to roll her eyes.

“Don’t badmouth your superiors.”

“But you can’t stand her, either!”

“That doesn’t mean I let my disdain overshadow my cooperation with her in battle.”

“She pressed the offense without securing the southern flank first. Finn took a kriffin’ plasma bolt for her.” Finn could have _died on the spot_ if the shot had been aimed lower. _What business did he have shielding someone like Pallan with his body?_ “The captain’s a stuck-up _eejit_ for exposing her unit and herself like that.” _Force. Someone needs to give that man an earnest lecture about the importance of self-preservation._

 

 

As Anila had surmised correctly, Finn had not required a great deal of medical attention. When Meetra arrived at the med centre, he’d already left. She found him in his bunk, fast asleep. The events of the past days had taxed all of them more than they would admit.

Meetra welcomed the respite. She needed to be alone. Needed to think. Her aching feet took her through the forest behind the hangar, towards one of her favourite secluded spots, a small hill overlooking the base. Framed by thick vines, it was unlikely anyone would accidentally stumble upon her. As a result, she was all the more stunned when she heard a male voice call out her name a few minutes later. Taking a deep, exasperated breath, she rose from her kneeling position and pulled the leafy curtains aside.

“How did you find me here, Poe?”

“I followed you.” Sheepishly, he scratched his neck. “Sorry.”

Wordlessly, she gestured him to come in and sat back down, knees pulled to her chest, careful to avoid looking at the pilot.

 “Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, an uncharacteristically insecure gesture which drew no reaction from her. “Please, don’t shut me out like that. I’m worried about you.”

“Why?” She asked into the void of the forest.

“Because I care?” came the tentative reply. “I mean, I was there, too. That battle was a horrible farce.”

“It’s not about Naivarra. I’ve seen worse.” _Done worse._

Realisation slowly dawned on Poe. “You regained more memories, then? What…do you recall?”

She gave him an exhausted glare.

“Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nowhere near the end, but we are approaching a turning point. 
> 
> Now that the Exile has regained her memories, what will she do with that knowledge?


	11. Betrayal

“You should sit this one out.” Meetra implored her friend after yet another discussion.

“Everyone will think I’m a coward.”

“They won’t if I _order_ you to stay at HQ.”

“I’m done with that chain-of-command thing!” Finn yelled.

“Done with me, too?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” He groaned in exasperation. “Stars, Meetra, just let me go.”

Finn had not been the same after Naivarra. He’d retained his gentle, determined demeanour, but his red-rimmed eyes and unhealthily greyish complexion gave away his inner turmoil. Tiny specks of amber tainted his brown irises. No one seemed to have noticed the phenomenon apart from Meetra. She needed him to stay away from the frontlines – and from herself whenever she used the Force. _It couldn’t possibly be my influence alone._ She reasoned with herself. _Neither Mical nor Mira showed any signs of corruption, despite battling their own demons as well. There has to be more to it. Something that makes him vulnerable._ Perhaps going up against his former comrades was breaking him after all.

She shook her head sternly.

“Why? You think I’m incapable-”

“Rubbish. I simply think you’ve killed enough Stormtroopers for a lifetime. At the very least, you deserve a break. ”

He slumped back down onto his bunk bed. “You…might be right.”

“Have you been sleeping at all?” She sat down beside him and pulled at the collar of his shirt to inspect the shoulder wound.

Embarrassed, Finn looked away from her prying stare. “It’s hard.”

“I know.”

“What about you, then? You really think war doesn't have any effect on you?”

“I don’t have much to lose, though.” She’d already fallen too far to care.

“Me neither!” Finn clenched his fists.

“Yes, you do.” Meetra hissed. _More than you know._

“How so? I’m just another trooper, without family, without history and without a future!” The orange in his eyes seemed to flare up. She took his shaking fists into her hands and gently pried them open. A few moments of silence passed between them.

“And yet ... you are afraid.” She gave his leg a friendly squeeze as she ducked out of the low bunk. “Just this once, stay here and rest. Please.”

 

“Meetra, I could use some help!”

“I’m still working on reversing the shield generator, you know.”

“We’ll make do without it! I have two dozen locals with me, none of them able to aim a blaster. .. I am on my own here.” Poe sounded desperate.          

“Are you sure you can evade the mobile AAGs on the way out?” She’d rather not get downed again.

“What I am sure of is that there will be no one left to evacuate unless I get support asap.”

“I don’t have my team with me either.”

Poe cursed in response.

 _Mir'osik._ _Why do you always have to play the hero, Dameron?_ She abandoned her ill-fated attempt to recalibrate the shields so they would keep ground-to-air fire in instead of the other way round. “Fine. I’ll be there in a sec. Hang tight.”

Meetra scrambled up slippery footpath leading up the hill towards Poe's position. Deafening thunder resounded close to them. Having reached a ledge above the winding gravel road the pilot would have taken, she leaned over the edge. A few metres from her, Poe stood in front of the civilians, corned by a squad of stormtroopers approaching them slowly with blaster rifles at the ready. What the First Order could possibly want with the few inhabitants of a self-sufficient colony on Bastot IV was beyond her understanding. No one had explained why the Resistance were getting involved either. _We really ought to pick our battles more carefully._ This mission, though somewhat inane, had been comparatively successful. They had managed to evacuate most of the population, some of whom curiously had appeared rather unwilling to leave. Only Poe had delayed his departure to pick up a few more civilians they’d missed on their first round through the colony. _Much good it has done him._

What struck her about the scene was not the pilot's dead-end situation, backed up into a rock formation that provided no cover, but the presence of a masked figure cloaked in all black. _Haar'chak…can’t things be simple for a change?_ A few soldiers wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge, especially seeing as they seemed to have orders to bring in the civilians alive, but going up against a Knight of Ren required something else entirely. The tall man – for a woman was unlikely to have such an impressively muscled physique, even the most battle-hardened Mandalorian females would be dwarfed by that creature – carried an obscure-looking battle axe on his back. _Well, a lightsaber would have been boring._

She rose from her occluded vantage point and mustered her resolve for what she was about to do. _The difference between a_ _fall_ _and a_ _sacrifice_ _is sometimes difficult._

“Knight of Ren!” The wind carried her words over to him. He stopped in his tracks and fixated her.

“What do you want, girl?” She had not actually expected to receive a verbal response.

“I challenge you to a duel.”

The Knight gave a bark of laughter, his vocoder distorting the sound eerily. “You could have run, why are you so eager to die? All for your little friend here?”

“You are a coward then? Leave them be and face me.”

“Why should I, if I can kill all of you?”

“Because if you win, I will go with you and tell you everything you wish to know about the Resistance, including the locations of their base and fleet.” Poe flinched violently in the background. “Provided you let these people go first.”

“You are quick to betray your comrades.” He seemed to consider her offer. “What is in it for you?”

“A place among your ranks is most likely won by merit. I covet your position. And your death will ensure I get it.” This admission left him speechless. Only the low whine of frightened civilians and Poe’s gasp were to be heard. The stormtroopers looked at their commander for orders.

Meetra had to step it up a notch. “Does your group not value honour? You don’t stand a chance.” As if on cue, the gravel around her rose into the air and swirled around her. She felt a tremor in the Knight’s Force presence.

“Stand down. I will handle this.” He dismissed the stormtroopers with a wave of his hand. Meetra jumped down from the ledge and walked towards her prospective opponent, pulling out the vibroblade from its sheath fastened to her back. The troopers formed a circle around them. “You are not to interfere, no matter what.” The massive figure growled. “Prepare to die, idiot woman.” And with that, he swung his weapon down towards her with unexpected swiftness.

She dodged the vibro-axe just time and brought her blade to her side, protecting her flank. Blocking the heavy weapon would be nigh impossible. Frequent sparring with Alek had equipped her with experience in dealing with brawny opponents, but of course he had not wielded such an ungainly, ridiculous weapon. Seeing an opening, she lunged forward and drove the pointed handle of her vibroblade into his solar plexus. It had little to no effect on her opponent. _Flexible armour_. What other surprises did he have in stock for her?

“What are you protecting these colonists for? Do you even know who they are? _What this place used to be_?”

The taunt spiked her curiosity. “Well, tell me then.”

He guffawed, clearly amused by her ignorance. “This colony was once a Republic labour camp. It’s where they sent former Imperial officers that weren’t important enough to warrant an execution but wouldn’t budge on their views.”

“These people are way too young for that.”

“Obviously. They brought whole families here. You’re setting their children and grandchildren up for continued humiliation. The First Order wants to bring them home.”

“And where is _home_?”

The man shrugged. “In the company of likeminded people. I’m sure you’ve noticed they weren’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of being evacuated by the successors of the Rebellion.” It was true. Some had even put up a veritable fight, leading her to assume they were merely reluctant to leave their homesteads and belongings behind. The pieces fell into place. Of course the Republic would have had to deal with the millions of Imperial supporters somehow. Penal settlements would have looked like the humane option to the puplic. Meetra deigned his revelations with no response. She deserved an explanation, from Organa herself if necessary. But that had to wait until the first part of her plan had been accomplished.

They danced around each other for a while, the Knight showing no signs of fatigue. The torrential rain had long drenched her to the bone, the fabric of her clothes clinging heavily to her skin, hair sticking to her forehead. Her reaction to his next strike came slightly too late, forcing her to bend backwards to avoid being cleaved in two. This gave him the opportunity to deal a blow to her face, sending her to the ground. Dazed, she looked up to find the axe head coming down again and rolled to the side. From her prone position, she lept up, diving under the man’s raised arm and severed the tendons on the back of his right knee with a quick slash. Cursing, he nearly lost his balance and stumbled sideways away from her, using his weapon for stability. Before he could press the counterattack, Meetra raised her arm and send him tumbling through the mud with the Force. He hadn’t even staggered back to his feet when an invisible hand closed around his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. The struggling Knight clawed at his throat in a futile attempt to regain control. When she finally released him, he crashed back to his knees, mask askew. In a desperate bid to turn the battle in his favour, he launched forward to pin his challenger to the ground, disregarding the sting in his leg and the lights dancing across his field of vision. A sharp pain shot through his shoulders as Meetra removed his arms in a graceful sweeping motion. The gushing blood pooled around his knees, mingling with the sludge. A cacophony of screams invaded his mind as he felt his life fade, pouring out of him as if siphoned away. The last thing he saw was a pair of gleaming amber eyes reflected thousandfold in the raindrops between him and his opponent.

Meetra wiped the blade on her sleeve and stepped over corpse that lay face down in the mud. The stormtrooper she approached made a few jerky movements, torn between attempting to shoot her and following the orders of the dead commander, before stiffening completely. Their fear was palpable. Meetra drank it up as if dying of thirst.

“Do send my regards to his master and relay my message.”

The trooper’s voice failed, so he nodded slowly instead. “I am sure you will be busy taking back his body. Don’t come after us or you’ll suffer even longer than him.” She turned her back on him and, pulling the hood of her cape into her face, began to stroll toward the cowering group of people.

 

“That should have been the last one.” Poe called from the shuttle ramp before closing it and began to rummage through a tool box. Meetra was kneeling next to an injured child, tending to the gash on their forehead. She had observed the pilot’s attempts to keep his distance from her on the march to the vessel, but now he came up to her and put his arm around her.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” A radiant smile appeared on his face. Meetra failed to notice that it did not reach his eyes.

She did not, however, miss the twinge of something jabbed into her neck. Poe stepped away from her. She tried to hold onto him as her legs refused to carry her weight, but her hands failed to comply. As she sank to the floor, blackness creeping into her vision, a single word resonated in her head.

 _Betrayal_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandalorian expressions:  
> Mir'osik - "Dung for brains"  
> Haar'chak - "Damn it!"
> 
> Note: Why the Sith eyes? As a Wound, Meetra cannot draw on the Force, instead relies on it flowing through her like blood. So temporarily, she in completely filled with the Dark, hence the non-permanent change in eye colour. There's a reason for the phenomenon in Finn's case, too.


	12. Redemption

She awoke to a sea of light that burned into her retina. As the room around her slowly took shape, she noticed the tight restraints on her wrists and ankles. _Friends to foes_. It was not a new experience for her, though that did little to alleviate the hurt. But that was not the most disconcerting aspect of her situation. The constant hunger had turned inwards, gnawing at her chest, eating away at her sanity. Meetra tried reaching into to the soothing stream of the Force, but to no avail. She was walled in, cut off from the only way to find relief. She had to get out of the cell before the sensation become overwhelming, the hunger uncontrollable. _Let's try not to provoke them..._

The opaque screen across from her turned transparent all of a sudden, revealing a large group of onlookers, among them General Organa and Admiral Statura. Dameron _\- the backstabbing bastard_ \- was hiding in a corner, arms crossed in front of his chest. Captain Pallan rose to speak, malicious glee etched across her face _. Why her, of all people? Couldn’t you just let her die, Finn?_

“Surik, you know why you’re here, in restraints?”

“Because you got to act out your sadistic fantasies?” The audience bristled collectively at her brazen reply.

“Then let me remind you of your actions.” Pallan continued undeterred. “You fought a Knight of Ren today?”

“I’m sure Poe told you all about it. Though I am beginning to wonder if I should’ve ignored his plea for support. Dameron, if that’s your way of showing gratitude…” She spat on the floor beside the interrogation chair she was strapped into. The pilot shrunk further into the wall.

“Do you deny using the Force?” 

“No, but that’s hardly a crime.” At that, discussions in hushed tones started among the audience.

“What about the dark side?”

Meetra grinned, wincing as her lip split open again, filling her mouth with a sickening coppery taste. “It’s a concept invented to explain moral concepts to adepts of the Force. What do you wish to know about it?”

“Did you _apply_ it during the battle?”

“I used techniques dogmatic people commonly associate with the dark side, yes.” She shrugged casually. “Last time I checked, there aren’t even laws against being a Sith. Not that I claim to be one, for the record.”

Pallan strutted closer to the window, her eyes gleaming victoriously. “And do you deny freely offering to betray us, to give away the location of our base? Have you not challenged the Knight for his position instead of intending to save Commander Dameron?” Several onlookers reacted with shouts to the revelation.

She chose to ignore them and turned her head towards Poe instead. “Ah. Is that what you believe, Dameron? Answer! Stop hiding like a coward.”

Poe reluctantly moved towards the holding cell, stopping a few paces away. “I heard you say it.”

“I don’t deny the words.” Statura’s eyes widened in disbelief. Next to him, Organa remained unimpressed. “However, the intention was a different one. What did the Knight have to gain by fighting me in an actual duel when he could have had you shot and be done with it? I needed to give him an incentive. Appeal to his honour and dangle a prize he could not refuse before his eyes. What is wrong with you, Dameron, if you can’t see through a simple ruse like that? The Resistance brought me back to life, gave me a purpose. Why would I deceive you?” _Because some of you deserve it. Because there is no other way. But my debt is not paid yet._

Poe seemed at a loss for words, which gave Pallan the opportunity to step in again. “I think we all know that the dark side is characterized by deception. It’s how the Emperor rose to power. It’s how the First Order wormed its way into a position of relative power.”

“Then you ought to lock up your poster boy pilot as well. He betrayed my trust, pricking my neck with a tranquilizer injector while I was helping a wounded child. Do you want to work with the sort of person who stabs their comrades in the back on a whim – out of fear?”

Finally, it was Organa’s turn to speak up. “Commander Dameron’s loyalty is not being called into question. Neither is yours. I think I speak for everyone present when I say that you have never given us any reason to doubt your commitment to our cause. However, I wonder why we were undeserving of _your_ trust? Why have you not told us of your powers?”

“I’ve been hunted half my life due to being a Force user. I don’t trust easily. In valuing Dameron’s life over my desire to stay under the radar, I knew I was risking my standing with you - and look what aiding him got me into.” She cocked her head toward the wrist cuffs accusingly.

“On behalf of the Resistance, I apologize for the degrading treatment.” Organa’s regret appeared to be real. “I truly hope you will understand why we reacted that way. Most people only know of the Force from stories. For generations, the Sith enslaving the galaxy were the only examples of Force wielders we were familiar with. But tell me, why the dark side techniques, Meetra?”

“Is there anyone in this room who has not taken a life?” Barely a handful gave an acknowledging nod. “They might not understand. Everyone else – what is the difference between shooting your enemy and killing them with the force? Between choking them with your bare hands and using Force Choke? The Force is powerful tool. But so is a blaster.” She gave Poe a pointed look. “Or a syringe of poison. Is it the intention? Then tell me you never acted out of revenge or felt vindicated – powerful, even – upon seeing a TIE fighter blow up.” Most cast their eyes down. “My goal was to save lives, not take them. Desperate measures are appropriate in a hopeless situation, such as the one I found Dameron in. I derive no pleasure from making an enemy bleed at my feet.” Of course, that depended on the opponent in question, but that was a line of thought she wouldn’t share with them.

Organa gave a nod to Pallan. “Open the cell and remove her cuffs. Meet me in my office as soon as you have sufficiently recovered.” The captain obeyed reluctantly, without making any attempts at hiding her displeasure at the turn of events. The rest of the audience sat motionless, as if paralyzed by the insights they had gained from their introspection. When Meetra exited the cell, every fibre in her body delighted by the calming influx of the Force. Poe had already fled the room.

 

 

The heavy durasteel door glided open as she approached it. “Please, come in.” The general motioned toward the seat across her desk. Meetra collapsed into it, her muscles still aching from the side-effects of the tranquilizer.

“Thank you, General. I was already envisioning kneeling before a firing squad before nightfall, what with the way Pallan kept looking at me.”

“For the sake of a clean slate from which we all can start to regain one another’s trust - is there anything else you are keeping from us?”

“No, nothing of relevance. Forgive me if I don’t share all the ups and downs of my life’s story with you, as it doesn’t pertain to modern times. I hope you can sympathise with my reasons. The past has not been kind to me. These times aren’t any safer for Force users than the period during which I grew up. And without my memories, there was no way of checking whether your explanations of history were cause, whether the reasons for your fight against the Empire and First Order were plausible.”

“Did you use to be a Jedi? Do you remember more now?” Organa’s curiosity was not yet sated.

“I trained to become one. But things happened during the war that led to my exile. I didn’t want anything to do with the Jedi Order, yet I had a target painted on my back by association. And yes, I’ve regained most of my memories.”

“Poe made a mistake, but please, don’t hold it against him. He was once captured and tortured by Kylo Ren. He is still haunted by that ordeal.” Meetra gave a little sigh. _Of course. But he ought to be stronger for it, having survived his encounter with a Darksider._ Unlike Lonna Vash, who’d succumbed to the torment inflicted by Darth Sion. She had been the only one amongst the remaining Jedi Masters not to turn into a hypocrite, partly abandoning the Jedi ways while chastising Meetra for answering the pleas of the galaxy. It had saved the Exile the bother of having to fight and kill her with her own hands.

“He never told me.”

“Perhaps he wanted to forget. Much like you, I presume, although subconscious in your case.”

“I don’t doubt it. The others will still hold my lapses of memory and my powers against me. I wonder how we can ever work together again.”

“Give them time, they will come around.” The general shifted in her seat. “I understand what you are going through.”

“How so?”

“I am Darth Vader’s granddaughter.” Meetra was thoroughly taken aback by the sudden revelation. “When the public found out, they viewed everything I did in light of that information, disregarding what I stood for, what I had fought for. During the Rebellion, I risked my life for the people of what was to become the New Republic, but they only saw the descendant of the feared Sith Lord in me.” _Kreia would have a field day with idiots like that who actually believe affinity for a certain aspect of the force runs in families._

“People tend to forget readily, but will never forgive a single flaw. I guess it’s easier than being grateful.”

“Possibly. Then again, I doubt many of us expect to appear in history books one day anyway.”

“It’s the atrocities they’ll chronicle. Like Hosnian Prime.” _Like Malachor._

Organa nodded. “An unfortunate irony of life.” She paused to pour two glasses of thick, violet juice for herself and her guest. “Speaking of atrocities, there is something else I’ve been meaning to ask you. You have probably noticed that most of our recent operations have been costly, unsuccessful endeavours. Many have begun to suspect the cause to be a mole in our ranks.”

“I am not a First Order spy, if that’s what you are implying. And neither is Finn, regardless of what Pallan thinks.”

“Admittedly, I disagree with her theories. I did not mean to accuse you of anything. Yet our inferiority remains an unfortunate fact. Do you have any insights?”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I respect your experience and value your input. Your recruits look up to you. Few others have been able to inspire such a degree of dedication, in my experience. They’d follow you into the heart of the First Order without question.”

 _Where they’d perish and break **my** heart._ “The enemy is always one step ahead. They generally know where we are going to strike, have prepared for our numbers and tactics. It is looking less and less like strategical brilliance on their part – though some of their manoeuvres have been quite ingenious – and instead bears the tell-tale signs of foreknowledge.” Meetra rubbed her wrists, deep in thought. “Nevertheless, considering the sheer number of botched missions, the assumed double agent’s communication with their handler must occur with incredible frequency. How do they get the intel out without drawing attention? A pilot? Someone in communications? Furthermore, with a mole present here, the First Order must be privy to our location. Why haven’t they attacked us yet? We don’t have much in terms of a fleet, even without a weapon like Starkiller they would not have much trouble getting rid of us. A few well-timed airstrikes should do the trick.” _Unless they are waiting for something. Or using our continued existence for their purposes…_

Organa nodded appreciatively. “These are valid points. What I don’t understand is how someone like that has managed to keep up their façade all this time. I can normally tell when someone is lying. And to think that people consider them their ally, a friend, spent their free time with them, share meals and smiles…”

“Jovial comradery and assumptions forged by years of knowing someone make for great cover. Do you read people’s minds?”

“I can’t, but I sense their motivations. If they are conflicted, they are not telling the truth.”

“So the mole doesn’t see a moral dilemma in their actions. If it’s not a lie for them, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“But the kind of … double-think that requires…?”

“Is rather impressive. I’ll keep my eyes open, but unless they make a mistake, there’s little I can do. Unless you’re willing to have me interrogate everyone on this base. It’s a viable option, but a very painful one that will make quite a few enemies.”

Organa shook her head, smiling sadly. “It is not time for such extreme measures. I appreciate your initial offer, though. I have another question, if you are amenable.”

Meetra leaned back. “Your time is more precious than mine.”

“What you said about the Dark Side, do you truly believe it does not exist?”

“At what point does the power the Force exerts submerge any attempt at choice, or free will? Ultimately, our decisions are our own. The dark side is the basic principle of gaining power through passions. Give yourself over to that completely and you become a raging puppet, torn asunder by your emotions. On the other hand, denying your feelings, like the Jedi stipulate, makes your far removed from life. It enslaves the Jedi to the so-called will of the Force, but more often than not, that is simply an excuse for inaction. An overzealous adept of the dark side might overreact, but at least they are not too weak or conflicted to take action. Both sides cannot exist without each other. As such, it is quite nonsensical to talk about them as if they were completely separate phenomena or paths that require exclusivity.”

The older woman leaned forward, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “If one has consciously dedicated his life to following the darker path, is it possible for them to be redeemed?”

“Everyone can make different choices at any time. Actual redemption requires a complete overhaul of one’s ideals and identity. It’s a fall few truly recover from, similar to throwing oneself into the grasp of the Dark headfirst, handing the reigns over to passions and desires.”

“But it is possible to come back from that?”

“It’s an active process that depends on the environment as well. Let me give you an example: There was once a man known as Revan. He started out as a Jedi and won the war for the Republic but later came to view learning the powers of the Sith and waging war against those who opposed him as the only way to stabilise the Republic. The Jedi took his memories and gave him a fake identity. He proceeded to destroy the fledgling empire and enormous fleet he had given rise to. Has he redeemed himself? Do his good deeds outweigh the murders he has committed, the torture sessions he ordered? Could you fully forgive the past?”

“To be honest, I am not sure.” _But you want to, why?_

“Why are you asking me this? Because of Vader?”

“No, because of Kylo Ren.” Organa hesitated briefly. “He is my son. We named him Ben, Ben Organa-Solo, after a Jedi hero, a friend.”

 _Interesting. This whole war is far more personal than I expected_. “What happened? Why did he turn?”

The general rose from her seat and walked over to the holo-projector in a corner of her office. “He was a difficult child. Always hurting, inside his mind. Tormented by nightmares and his perception of what the others might be thinking about him. He felt torn between the light and the dark. They seem to war in him all the time.” An image of a young family appeared, all smiling. The boy leaning against the side of his father’s leg and holding his mother’s hand couldn’t have been older than two or three. “We hoped training with his uncle would bring him peace, but it only made him more frustrated. He drew on his anger, got into fights with his fellow students. In the end, he was seduced away by Snoke, only to return to the Academy later, a changed man. He slew all his fellow students.”

A sudden realisation hit Meetra, as she remembered the stories of how the famed Rebellion general Han Solo had died on Starkiller. “And committed fratricide.”

“Yes. I still refuse to believe that I lost both of them. Han wouldn’t have wanted me to abandon his son, no matter what.” Organa averted her eyes. “It pains me to talk about him. What I need to know is whether you can bring him back.”

 _That woman’s obsession might just prove to be her downfall…_ “I don’t think he’d be willing to reconsider his allegiance just like that. You need to be clear about what you are actually asking for. Freedom from Snokes influence? Turning away from the dark side? Or full redemption? I see little basis for the latter two option to come to pass. That is beyond my abilities. However, without Snoke manipulating him, he would be free to choose. Perhaps he’ll choose you. Or not. We can only speculate about the possibilities.”

“Can you do it, then? Get him away from Snoke? I’d give everything for him to be free.”

“Everything? Are you sure?” Her interlocutor nodded, almost too eagerly to have considered the implications. “I could try. But I need you to trust me every step along the way.”

Meetra rose to leave. The task she had accepted required ample preparation. And without knowing it, she had already sown the first seeds.

To her surprise, Organa called after her. “Meetra, one last question. Did Finn know? About your Force sensitivity, I mean.”

“Yes. He was the only one.”

“He lied for you, didn’t he? With regards to Telaal.”

Meetra remained silent.

“Finn wanted to protect you. I could almost feel the conflict raging in him. When I realized that most of those lost that day were the recruits you trained, I knew why. Did you have some sort of vision?” _Organa is far more observant – more dangerous – than I assumed…_

“I felt their deaths through the Force. But I didn’t ask Finn to lie on my behalf.”

“What prompted you to reveal yourself to him? How did he gain your trust?”

“He is different. He doesn’t judge. And, you could say, his mind intrigued me.”

“Because of the conditioning?”

“Because he overcame it.” Meetra decided to make the most of the opportunity. “General, I’ve been watching him for quite a while. I request you to take him off the mission roster.”

“That is a strange request indeed. Would you enlighten me as to why?”

“Have you ever considered what being forced to kill his former comrades might be doing to him?”

“We do not force anyone –“ The general sounded indignant.

“Not directly, of course. The honourable Resistance would never rely on coercion. Your methods are more subtle, but just as effective at making sure people are ready to sacrifice themselves for a higher goal.” Organa pursed her lips, biting down her rising resentment. “Finn never wanted to be a hero. He refused to kill, that’s what gave him the strength to break through years of brainwashing. Now that he’s killing in your name, are proud of your achievement? That you succeeded where the First Order failed?”

“He is here on his own accord…” The general replied hoarsely, her voice almost a whisper.

“Keep telling yourself that. He might even believe it himself. The truth, however, is far crueller. He stayed because of Rey. He helped you with Starkiller because he wanted to free her. He keeps fighting because he is waiting for her to return. And when she does, he’ll have become a mere shell of his former self. Let him go look for her or keep him away from the frontlines. It’s your call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowing what fate befalls those who betray the Exile, let's all feel sorry for Poe. Or perhaps not.
> 
> At least 5 chapters to go for this part.


	13. Into the Void

Getting back into everyone’s graces turned out to be a rather tedious undertaking. Those under her command had quickly expressed their support and even admiration. But the others were not so easy to sway. Thus, Meetra resorted to ignoring them – the resentment would fade in time. Their approval meant little to her. Pallan kept shooting her dirty looks, there was little doubt the captain entertained herself by spreading rumours. The reason for Finn’s absence during the impromptu interrogation had been identified quickly – one of Pallan’s people had tasked him with a myriad of cleaning jobs in the hangar bay, keeping him out of the loop. The intention behind that ridiculous ploy was easy to work out.

Meetra had just finished training for the day, having stayed behind to put away the equipment used by the recruits. Her thoughts were centred around the adjustments she intended to try out later that evening on the astromech droid she had procured for her side project. When she attempted to the exit the training room, she found the door locked. “What do you want?” she called out without turning around. “I’m sick of your little jokes.”

“You insist on ignoring me. What am I supposed to do? I just want a chance to talk.”

“For starters, Dameron, you’re not supposed to lock us in. It’s seriously creepy and reeks of desperation.”

Poe’s voice was more high-pitched than usual. “I am desperate! You won’t even let me apologize-“

“You already have. Repeatedly. I simply refuse to accept it,” she replied with a shrug.

The pilot wedged his body between Meetra and the door and gripped her shoulders.

“I miss you. More than you can imagine.” Disheartened upon seeing her icy glare, he continued meekly. “If… what we had… is no longer possible, I will accept it, but at least let us work together, like before.”

“You sedated me while we were doing just that - _working together_. Don’t think I’ll ever trust you again.”

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?” He exhaled shakily, fingers digging into the muscle and bone beneath them. “Do I need to save your life in return? How can I prove myself to you?”

“That’s where you’ve got the wrong idea. I forgave you weeks ago. But what you’ve irrevocably proven is that you are nothing but a treacherous coward.”

“Please, Meetra, it shouldn’t end like this…” Seeing the proud man reducing to pleading sent a bizarre jolt of unidentifiable emotion through her.

“You are right, it shouldn’t.” With that, she swiped her palm across the access pad, unlocking the door with the Force, and walked out without another word. _It won’t end here, I promise._

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Furthermore, there has been a marked increase in Knight of Ren involvement. A few of them appear to spearhead most major offensives, and we have received reports of them being involved in recent non-military planetary takeovers by the First Order.” Kaydel Ko-Connix finished her report. “Do you have any questions?”

“Where is Skywalker when we need him?” A white-haired human male exclaimed dejectedly.

This sparked a series of interjections, tension mounting among the participants of the intelligence meeting at the mention of the Jedi. “We are getting slaughtered here while the Republic is burning, and he remains in hiding?” was one of the yelled comments.

“Friends, please calm down.” Admiral Statura leaned over the desk. “We have been able to stand our ground for years without Jedi aid. Bryson-” He addressed the old man who had spoken first, “You know Skywalker personally, don't you? He left for a reason. We might not be able to understand it, but we need to trust his wisdom and judgment in this regard.”

“Do we?” A young Mirialan asked bitterly. “I grew up with my parents – may they rest in peace – telling me bedtime stories of Jedi heroics and their defining value: compassion. Exiling himself is a sign of utter cowardice and, in this present situation, not compassionate at all. It’s a slap in the face of everyone who joined the Resistance because the successes of the Rebellion gave them hope.”

“Yaniss, the Rebellion was never about the handful of people about whose exploits you might have heard heroic tales. Luke Skywalker was indeed a key figure, but that does not mean he is obligated to show up on the frontlines nowadays.”

Bryson would not let up. “That girl from Jakku-” Someone next to him hissed her name _._ “Right, sorry, the girl named Rey went to train with him. Considering that she has not returned yet, isn’t it safe to assume that Skywalker is doing his part by preparing her for the fight?”

Someone from the back chimed in. “How long can it take? Can’t she learn on the battlefield, like we have to?”

“You presume too much. I don’t think the Force works that way…” Major Styx calm baritone seemed to quiet most of the commotion, with the exception of Yaniss.

“But she was able to strike down Kylo Ren and was instrumental in the destruction of Starkiller, wouldn’t she be strong enough already? There might be woefully few of us left when she finally does turn up.”

Bryson stepped up to the conference table, head held high despite his trembling legs. “Perhaps we should give them the benefit of the doubt. After all, they might not be aware how dire our situation is. We should send someone to go looking for Luke Skywalker and Rey in order to convince them to come to our aid. I propose a vote to be held.” His request was out of place, but he had struck a nerve with many of his fellow Resistance members.

Reluctantly, Leia Organa stood next to the Admiral and addressed the crowd. There was no backing away now, unless she wanted to make a mockery of their democratic ideals. “Those in favour of the motion, raise your hand.” An overwhelming number of people of all ranks, roles and species raised their respective limbs. “And those in opposition?” A few older fighters, among them Statura, gave the sign, fully knowing that they were in the minority.

The general exhaled deeply. It had been Rey’s task to bring back her brother, if she had not succeeded, who could? But Yaniss and Old Bryson had brought up valid questions – how come they had not made contact, why hadn’t Rey returned alone? Maybe Luke was prone to keeping her for too long, considering his experiences with rushing into battle before his training had been completed.

“Are there any volunteers for this mission?” Statura had barely finished his sentence when Finn urgently pushed his way through the crowd, coming to a halt next to Yaniss.

“Admiral, General Organa, please allow me to go.” He pleaded breathlessly. Organa could see the excitement in his eyes and instantly regretted having to douse his enthusiasm. If the First Order got a hold of him…he was too valuable a card to be removed from their hand.

“Finn, I know how eager you are to see Rey again, but you haven’t been on a mission for months. We need you here-“

“He is the best candidate.” All eyes turned towards Meetra.

“Do you have any indications of his whereabouts?” she continued. “How are you going to find him then? Finn’s Force bond with Rey is our best bet.”

“Force bond?” Statura asked incredulously.

“It's a kind of emotional connection, forged while they were hunted by the First Order. He will feel it if he is getting closer to her, notwithstanding Skywalker’s attempts to cloak their Force signatures.” It was merely a hypothesis, although considering her own experiences and Revan’s explanations of his bond with Bastila, bringing Finn would certainly be of some advantage. In any case, he would be more convincing than anyone else, at least when it came to getting Rey to join them. Meetra wasn’t sure if she even wanted Skywalker to come along. “I shall go with him, of course. Force users can sense one another and if a Knight of Ren turns up, normal fighters won’t stand a chance anyway.”

 

There had been opposition to Surik’s departure with Finn. It was the most rational choice, but sentiments still ran deep. Not everyone trusted her to have the Resistance best interests at heart, some even worried she might try to assassinate Skywalker. He wouldn’t be the first master to die by her hand, though they couldn’t know that. Then again, considering she held no grudge against this particular Jedi, there was no incentive to wish him any harm. Meetra was curious to hear his story and views, but she was primarily tagging along for Finn’s sake, to watch out for him.

Then again, she had not expected the search to take months. Ach-To, their first destination had been deserted except for a tame goat seeking shelter in small hut made of stone and clay that seemed to have housed Skywalker and his apprentice at some point. Someone had left clues for them, most likely the girl, since Finn was able to figure out their meaning after several days of meditation. Meetra had passed the time swimming around the tranquil little island to refine her backstroke or scavenging for food – grilled fish being a very welcome alternative to their standard rations, some of them First Order fare from an intercepted enemy transport, which Finn absolutely refused to eat, even though they were of slightly better quality than their other provisions.

Two unsuccessful planet-wide searches later, they reached Felucia, a lush, tropical planet with a rather diverse – and dangerous – fauna and flora. Meetra wondered idly if the rumours of Rancors stomping through the jungles were true. They’d probably find out sooner or later. Until then, the humidity and stench emanating from certain plants were the greatest nuisances.

“I can’t feel her here, either.” Finn whispered with obvious disappointment.

“This planet is extremely chaotic, so much life vibrating around us. Can you feel it?” Meetra eyed their colourful surroundings warily. “There is something dark about the struggle of all these beings. Do you know what happened here within the past few decades?" Finn shook his head in response. "Judging from the lingering echoes, great atrocities... Quite frankly, you might not be able to sense Rey here, you’re not attuned enough to pick out her signature from among all the noise. Let’s not abandon hope just yet.”

“So, how are we supposed to find them?”

“Let them find us.” Meetra grinned and - having assured herself that it wasn't alive - sat down on a flat stone, legs crossed. “I’ll take care of it while you scout the area for potential threats and a shelter for the night. Don’t stray too far, pretty much everything here is quite _hungry,_ even the plants might be hostile. Especially those fat-leaved ones, they look quite conspicuous.”

Finn gulped. “Sounds idyllic.”


	14. A Shell of a Man

Rustling leaves roused Meetra from her trancelike state. The first time round, she had been greeted by a ravenous lizard. _At least this one hasn’t crossed Finns path_. Alas, the roughly cannok-sized creature’s flesh seemed inedible for humans. This time, she noted with surprised pleasure, it was a cloaked figure standing before her, lightsaber drawn.

“What have you come for? To kill me?” The elderly man growled.

She slowly rose, keeping her hands limply by her sides. “Huh, no. To talk. We haven’t spent months looking for you just to kill you now.”

“Who are you, darksider?” He ignited his weapon.

“Ah, you must have misunderstood. What you sensed is not the dark side...” Seeing his continued expression of disdain, her hand inched towards the sheath of her vibroblade. Instantly, the elusive Jedi charged at her. _Well, he wouldn’t know any better._

Meetra blocked his attack. “There is no emotion, there is peace. Sound familiar?” she mocked him, sidestepping his next blows. _Arbitrary technique…There is a system behind his movements, but it’s not based on one of the seven forms… Has he created his own form? It’s rather lacking in finesse._

“It’s the likes of you that bring war and chaos.” He lunged forward, driving her blade aside and then bringing his saber up in a cho mai maneuver. Reflexively, Meetra pushed her opponent away with the Force to prevent her hand from being chopped off. Feeding off the resilient but chaotic cacophony of life around her had increased her strength significantly.

“Oh, want to level the playing field?” she taunted. She retaliated by a swift series of strikes that had Skywalker take back several steps before he stood with his back against a giant fleshy petal. “As much as I appreciate this impromptu sparring session, that’s not what I came for.” _He is inexperienced, or woefully out of practise._

He successfully dodged her next attack, but his parry left his flank unprotected, giving Meetra a welcome opening. As she brought her weapon up in a wide slashing motion, their blades met far out from his body, destabilizing his already precarious stance so he had to put his body weight behind his block. She grabbed his wrist and twisted it until he was forced to loosen his grip on the handle. Thus switching his saber off for a second allowed her to sweep her vibroblade high above his head to the other side. Simultaneously stepping out of his dominant hand’s range, she stopped her attack just as the edge of the blade hovered beside his head, a mere fraction from the vein pulsating in his neck. “Yield.” Skywalker stood motionless, apparently calmly resigning himself to his fate.

“What the kriffing-” Finn gasped, appearing between the bushes across from her. “Is that…? What are you two doing?”

“I can’t speak for Skywalker, but I am trying to deescalate before something happens that will disappoint everyone. Finn, tell him before someone gets hurt.”

The young man pulled himself together, clearly shaken - and awed - by the unexpected lightsaber duel unfolding before him. “M-master Skywalker, we…we are not your enemies. The Resistance sent us. Specifically, General Organa. I am sorry for provoking you-“ His friend glared at him. “I mean, can’t we just discuss this without going for each other’s throat? We need your help.”

Skywalker furrowed his brows. “Rey told me about you, Finn. But why have you come with this woman? My sister would not send one who follows the doctrines of the dark side to come looking for me.”

“Then I’ve got news for you, sir, I don’t. I would have explained it to if given the chance. You’re probably quite lonely out here but that doesn’t mean you ought to lash out against every unwanted visitor.” To back up her words, she lowered her vibroblade and returned it to its harness. The older man kept watching her every move, but slowly clipped the lightsaber back to his belt as well.

“Great,” Finn went on. “Now that you are not in danger of killing each other, we should probably get moving. There is a huge creature coming this way. I think it smelled me. I mean, it turned around when I got closer and-”

“A rancor?!” Meetra and Skywalker exclaimed simultaneously.

 

 

“Please, have a seat. It’s not much, but at least it’s safe here.” The Jedi ushered them in. “I will make some tea in the meantime.”

“Where’s Rey?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Meetra surveyed the small room. A low table was set before them, the only piece of furniture apart from a rolled up futon in a corner.

“Is Rey here?” Finn repeated, loudly this time as Skywalker reentered the cabin.

“First things first. I still don’t know whether I can trust you. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“We are both Resistance members. Finn you might already be somewhat familiar with - he is Rey’s friend. My name is Meetra. As you've seen, I can use the Force, but I was cut off from the source, so to speak, when I was younger, that’s why you see the void when looking at me. It’s a long story that belongs in the past. The point is, we’re all on the same side. If General Organa is able to trust me, so can you.”

They proceeded to give Skywalker an update on the dire situation of the galaxy and the progress of the war. The Jedi merely listened intently, but gave no indication that this new knowledge would propel him into action. Finally, he asked quietly,  ”In what way does my sister expect me to help her?”

“Come out of hiding and join the fight? I guess that’s the basic idea.”

“I am no longer the man she thinks I am.” He rose from his cushion and scuffled towards a small trunk, removing a small object from it. It was a tiny model of an old X-Wing. Placing it on the table between them, he continued. “With the emperor and Darth Vader gone, we had achieved balance in the galaxy. Peace. You are aware that Leia and I are descendants of Vader?” Meetra nodded, looking confused by where the conversation was heading. “Has Leia told you about Ben, too? This toy belonged to my nephew. I have kept it to remind me of how I failed him and as a result, everything we fought for turned to ashes - because of my arrogance. If I came along, I would only make things worse.”

Lazily, Meetra stretched her back, lifting her arms to cross them behind her head. “One would end up thinking the Force is merely twisting people to its own ends. Most of the light side choices available do nothing to avert war. Like you exiling yourself. On the contrary, too many of them are awfully shortsighted so the galaxy keeps ending up in the same mess every time a new ideology raises its head. Because apparently that's what the Force wants, some sort of fragile balance over time, regardless of the cost to various innocent lives.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. What about Rey?” Finn pressed.

“I do not know.”

“What?” he all but shrieked.

“She is no longer here. She went her own way months ago.”

Finn gasped audibly. “She left? You sent her away? On her own?”

“She was unable to submit to the Jedi teachings. I couldn’t bear the responsibility of yet another failed apprentice.”

The former stormtrooper stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the low table. “You kriffing coward!” He slammed his fist into the wall beside him. “The First Order might have her already. They would try to use her, turn her or… She could even be dead!” Blood trickled down his fingers in thick rivulets.

“Sit.” Meetra tugged at his sleeve. “Stars, Finn, calm down. If she was dead, you of all people would know it.” _Sit!_ He slumped down like a marionette with cut strings and, covering his face with his hands, started to sob.

“Skywalker, a word.” She led the older man outside. “What were you thinking? You aren’t a master. Not even a Jedi. Apathy is death. You are nothing.”

He lowered his head, face disappearing in the shade of his cowl. “I know.” Exhaling deeply, he continued. “I died the day the Academy was destroyed. I should have been there, to protect the students with my very life. I refused to admit the futility of trying to make amends until I saw the fire in Rey’s eyes. Her passion, her intuitive grasp of the Force, the way her emotions – no matter how innocent – fueled her powers... I couldn’t bear losing another student to the dark side.”

Meetra lifted his chin up with her fingertips, forcing him to look at her. “And instead you made her leave to wash your hands clean of her blood - or the blood you dreaded she’d spill? You’re pathetic. Your fear of what you think is the dark side has paralyzed you.”

“Don’t you see? I am not meant to be the one to continue the Jedi Order. I would not allow my stubbornness to drag her down with me. Rey would have required a better master. She’s too volatile.” _Too much like Kylo Ren?_

“At the root of this problem is your failure to reevaluate your teachings, not her inability to accept your dogmatic ideas. Yet you have the audacity to blame Rey? You know nothing, Skywalker,” she spat. “You are a disgrace to the very idea of the Jedi Order. Do you want to know how many hypocrites like you I’ve killed, some for less? You will live, however, if only to ponder the consequences of your decisions.”

His tired, pale blue eyes pierced right into her. “Who _are_ you?”

“An exile, like you,” she replied with an enigmatic smile. “Rey has no way of contacting the Resistance, so where could she have gone? Back to Jakku?”

“There is no one left she might want to wait for there.”

“Great, back to square zero. We are leaving. I don’t care what becomes of you, I won’t even ask you to come along, regardless of how much your sister misses you. You are worthless with regards to this war. Does Kylo Ren how thoroughly his betrayal destroyed you? He’d probably be very happy.”

She walked back into the hut. This was not the man, the Rebellion hero she had expected to meet. A mere shell of a man and a hypocrite to boot, like all the other Jedi. He deserved no less than Lamar, Kavar or Zez-Kai Ell. Atton had been right. _The Jedi… the Sith… to the galaxy, they’re the same thing: just men and women with too much power, squabbling over religion, while the rest of us burn._


	15. Fragile Allegiance

Finn had remained quiet for hours even after they had made the jump to hyperspace.

“We will find her, this I promise you.” She gently grasped his right hand to inspect it. He didn’t even flinch as her thumb slid over the half closed scabs and mottled bruises. “You are lucky you didn’t break any bones. That outburst was quite unnecessary. You _will_ be reunited with Rey.” As an afterthought, she added, “Ironically, you are lucky she hasn’t become a Jedi.”

“How so?”

“Attachments are forbidden to them. She wouldn’t have been allowed to requite your feelings for her.”

“My…oh.” A faint blush crept on his cheeks, causing him to look away in shame. “it’s not like that. I mean, I don’t-” He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t making sense. “The thing is, even if we managed to locate her, she would not want me… She is so _pure_. On the other, I am hardly innocent. Back on Felucia, I felt like killing him,” he whispered, ashamed.

Meetra’s eyes bore into him. “Good.”

“What?”

“At least it’s more productive than maiming yourself. Though I think he deserves the suffering of the hell created in his own mind rather than the quiet embrace of the Force.”

“I shouldn’t have thought that.”

“You didn’t act on it, that’s what counts.”

“Rey saved my life several times…and she has done so much more. I should be there for her, but I’m this lowly trooper, a walking blaster, doesn’t matter for which side I fight, there just so much death, every day, those empty eyes staring at me at night...” He clenched his fists to the point of his knuckles whitening. Blood spattered on the floor, forming an intricate glistening pattern. Finn didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t want this anymore, I can’t, they are like me, they simply don’t know yet and I kill them before they can see that…” As his frantic monologue continued, the durasteel casing of the console before him began bending inwards.

“Finn,” she began quietly. No reaction.

Meetra suddenly had trouble breathing, her airways constricting gradually. She repeated her plea with what little oxygen she had left, to no avail. It was only when sparks flew from the panel that Finn abruptly ceased speaking and stared at her in abject horror.

“What-“ his voice failed him. “what just happened?”

“You discovered your strength.” Despite rubbing her neck, Meetra grinned at him. “At last.”

“That was me? The console, your throat...” He dropped to his knees, frantically waving his arms around. “Pfassk, I’m so sorry, I really don’t know what got into me-”

“I don’t blame you. It’s been a while since someone choked me, though." She sank down to his level and pulled him closer by the shoulders. "You have the Force. It’s both a blessing and a burden, but how you use it is up to you.”

“All those times we trained and meditated, why didn’t you tell me?” His voice trembled.

“It was possible you might never have overcome the obstruction in your mind. In that case, what would have been the point of telling you?”

“What held me back?”

“Remnants of your conditioning, coupled with the contradiction of killing your former comrades, I suppose. The pain that your passion for Rey has brought enabled you to break through it.”

“But it made me hurt you…”

Meetra shook her head. “I could have stopped you at any time, but I wanted to find out how far you’d go.” _I sound like Kreia._ “You held back on your own, which is very impressive. I am proud of you.” _Damn her infernal masochistic way of teaching._

Her friend was still not convinced. “Kylo Ren is known for choking people he is displeased with. I don’t want to be like him! If he draws on the dark side, then-”

“What have I told you about the facets of the Force? If you are having these thoughts, you are not like him at all. Besides, we should make no assumptions about the philosophy the Knights of Ren live by. It’s dangerous to misjudge an opponent like that. The knight I killed was different from the dark acolytes I fought…before. I sensed his anger, yes, but apart from that, he felt rather dispassionate, empty even. Like torture victims who have lost their will to live. ”

“You think Snoke breaks them?”

“Every master does to a certain degree. Some are more thorough than others.”

“What about you then? You trained me-”

“I have given you tools. I am not your master. I have actually never taken an apprentice, I just give people the opportunity to learn. Their decisions are their own.” _Alas, unless they succumb to my influence._ “I won’t teach you doctrine nor do I expect obedience. The only thing I ask for is your loyalty.”

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Needless to mention, Skywalker’s refusal to help them and Rey’s disappearance had created unrest among the Resistance. Their last fragile hope for a deus ex machina resolution had been dashed. It further stirred up sentiments against Force users and affirmed the views of the Hardliners, as Meetra had come to call the growing faction dissatisfied by Organa’s careful approach. Lurant seemed to have been one of them. During the long search for the last Jedi, their ranks had been bolstered by a number of former officers of the Republic Navy. A defection of sorts, fueled by the desire to actively push the First Order back whereas the Senate kept stalling and deliberating, nowadays convening on Coruscant in holographic form. Over night, their fleet’s size had tripled. But such unanticipated support was sure to come at a price.

After their arrival at the Resistance headquarters on Pzob, Finn and Meetra had headed straight for the control centre, barging in on negotiations between the Resistance leaders and their new Navy alies. Several dozen unfamiliar faces greeted them with a scowl. Admiral Tashik had been the first to make his move, more than a few commanders had followed his, bringing along their ships and crew. They had made it clear that they wouldn’t take orders from the Republic anymore, but by the same token expected to be equals to the Resistance general and her admirals.

 

One evening, Major Styx sat down beside her as she was nursing her third glass of whiskey.

“Many men I have served with started spending their nights like this at some point. Though I must say I am surprised to see you like this, Surik.”

“Don’t presume to know me, sir.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t. You are unpredictable. Don’t want to end up on your bad side, like Major Lurant.”

“What do you mean?” she hissed.

Smirking shrewdly, he tapped his temples. “A sniper sees everything. I was on Navarra, Cresh team. Before we got orders to withdraw, my unit attempted to scout the valley, maybe take out some FO commanders from the distance. As luck would have it, I witnessed your altercation with the late Major through my scope.”

“And yet, you have not reported me. Why?”

“I managed to get this old by not being stupid, you know. I could tell what he was planning to do. A less lethal way of stopping him might have been preferable, though.”

“What makes you think I won’t kill you as well to protect my secret?”

“Because it’s already safe with me. When I saw you using the Force, all the pieces fell into place. Your reflexes, how you managed to survive the gas, what enabled you to persuade Hanley to attack General Hux of all people…You have helped us all this time. And when you spoke of making tough decisions, you were drawing on your experience, weren’t you?”

Meetra did not reply and continued to swirl the empty glass around on the table.

Styx changed the topic of the discussion. “Have you met the newcomers?”

“The admiral and his minions? Yes. He took an instant disliking to me.”

“Tashik is an unreadable man. He is known to be quite ruthless. I served under him in my youth, when he was a but captain. Effective, but brash and power-hungry.”

“If it were up to you, we would not be working with him?”

“Indeed. Many think his fleet is a blessing, but he will want to shape our approach significantly.”

“You are afraid the Resistance is sacrificing their values by cooperating closely with the Republic Navy.”

“Republic _defectors_. Already they have proven that they have no honour. They no longer have much to lose.”

“Neither do the hapless kids we sent into battle.”

“They have hope.”

“What good does that do them?”

Styx commlink beeped. He got up with a sigh. “I will leave you to your liquid source of comfort. Just don’t forget that we are fighting for the same thing.”

 

 

“Hey, Poe.”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Finn recoiled as if burned. “What has gotten into you?”

“Meetra won’t be happy if she sees us talking.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Poe. You’re preparing for the next mission?”

“Not yet. Pava, Snap and I introduced a couple of improvements on our X-Wings. We'll take them for a test flight in a couple of minutes. You gonna watch?”

“Sure. I wouldn't miss the chance to witness the flying skills of the amazing Poe Dameron."

"I aim to please."

"So, uh. Be safe, then.”

Poe winked and returned to his preliminary diagnostics.

 

Finn spotted Meetra working on a droid near the hangar and walked over to her.

"Had a nice chat?" she greeted him, immersed in her work.

"I'm sorry, but-"

“No, it’s fine really. That issue is between Dameron and me. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

“But if my friends hate each other, how am I supposed to deal with that?”

“You want us to reconcile? Fat chance.”

Suddenly, Jessika Pava approached them, her fidgeting betraying her uncharacteristic anxiousness.

“Have you seen Poe and Snap? We were supposed to do a test flight right now. But I just found part of a compressor unit below my seat. Mine's intact it must belong to one of their fighters.”

“Didn’t they take off a couple of minutes ago?” As if on cue, the two X-Wings came flying past over their heads.

“Stars, no!” Pava cried, terror etched into her youthful face. “Without the compressor calibrating correctly, the engine will burn itself out!”

"Have you commed them?"

“I tried! Their communication is turned off, that’s why thought they were still on the ground.”

Finn shook his head in confusion. “Who would do that?”

A sudden, combusting sound interrupted them. One of the fighters had caught fire, the greedy flames quickly engulfing the cockpit. No emergency ejection followed. The X-Wing descended rapidly into the forest behind the base.

Without thinking, Meetra dashed toward the nearest speeder.

 

What felt like hours later, she arrived at the crash site. The still burning X-Wing was lying upside down, nose rammed into the soil. Meetra crawled beneath pulled the pilot’s scorched body out from under the vessel and carefully propped him up against a tree outside of the likely explosion range.

“Can you hear me?” No response. She checked his vitals, even though she sensed that he was still alive, barely so. He smelled of fuel and burnt flesh. Despite half of his hair having been singed, his face was miraculously intact. Cradling his head in her arms she concentrated on the flicker of life within him. _Come on, Dameron._ _You’ve survived worse, haven’t you?_ How was she supposed to heal him without anyone around to draw on? The most she could do was stabilise him a little. The scene before her blended with a crimson-tinged hallway on Malachor V.

_Your eyes…that bad, huh? Always was ugly – now the outside matches. Was waiting for this, but…it’s not fair. Was tired of living anyway. Too many deaths. Never told you. Lied to you. Don’t want you to see me like this._

She had not been able to save him, either. None of her healing attempts had shown any effects, as if Atton had refused to continue living. _He probably got his way, stubborn as he was. Why did you have to desert me in the end, too? You were the one who should have stayed._ His laughter rang in her ears - _I've been with you only a short time, enough to know that as soon as someone signs on with you, they haven't got long to live. You got history, and anyone who travels with you doesn't._

Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto Poe’s sweat and smoke soaked hair.

“Mee…tra.” Poe tried up at her. “You came…”

“I am here. Medical help will arrive soon.”

“How…did … happen?”

“Pava said the compressor unit was faulty on your fighter.”

“Not…possible…checked.” His eyes momentarily rolled back into his head.

“Shush. Save your strength.”

“Didn’t think … you … with me … at a time … like this.”

“I told you, it wouldn’t just end like nothing ever happened.”

He coughed violently. “What a … stupid … way … to die.”

“You won’t die. You still have many space battles lying ahead.”

“I’d rather… have done … meaningful … last.” Poe rasped out. “Like…fly into… Finalizer … bridge…”

His head lolled to the side. _Stay!_ Curled around the pilot’s limp body, she hardly noticed the rescue team’s arrival. Three men struggled to pry her away before she finally let go and numbly started to walk back alone.

 

 

“Restrain him again!” A female voice shrieked. A few moments of violent struggling later, “This is your last chance, traitor. Surrender!”

Meetra had followed the sounds of the commotion intuitively, her mind still focussed on Poe faint pulse. As she stepped into the half-empty secondary hangar, the situation unfolding before her brought her back to the presence with a jolt. “Finn?!”

Bleeding profusely from the nose, Pallan kneeled next to Finn, lips almost brushing his ears as if she’d been whispering secrets. Her blaster digging into his chin was the only thing keeping his head up. “Ah, it seems your accomplice has arrived at last.”

Dumbfounded, Meetra stood rooted in place, trying to parse the disparate images and their implications together. Her friend in handcuffs, surrounded by the brutish men of Pallan’s security unit, his face battered and swollen. His clothes were ripped, numerous bruises and cuts peeked out beneath.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“If only I knew what you are accusing him – or us – of.”

“The little turncoat sabotaged Commander Dameron’s X-Wing with the intent to kill him,” the captain spat.

“Ludicrous. The two of them were close friends. Do you have any proof at all?”

“Of course. Eyewitnesses unanimously testified that he was the last person they saw near the vessel before Dameron returned to pilot it. It seems he helped with previous adjustments, getting familiar with the technology. He also tried to hide after the crash.”

“That proves nothing.”

“No? What about the fresh burn marks on his hands, proving that he touched live wires? That could only have occurred after the upgrade was finished.”

Meetra’s mind was reeling. Had Finn truly betrayed them? It wasn’t possible, yet at the same time, she felt no deception coming from Pallan. Had he tried to kill Poe _for her_? The accused sat motionless, eyes glazed over as if he wasn’t even there.

“Let go of him. He can walk to the interrogation room without your prodding.”

“I don’t think so. He put up quite a fight. I told you he was dangerous.” Pallan replied smugly.

“After or before you beat him to a pulp? Is this how you deal with suspects here? I’ll take him to the cell, just leave him alone.”

“So you can help him escape? You planned this together, didn’t you? Did you go after Dameron to finish him off in case he survived the crash?” That pushed her over the edge.

“Put down your blaster or you will regret it.” The captain just smirked. A few seconds later, the smile froze on her face, as fire began to rage through her mind. One by one, her enforcers stumbled and fell, gripping their heads in pain as if to keep them from exploding from the onslaught of horrors within. Pallan was the last to succumb to the tormenting invisible hands ripping her mind apart until only soothing blackness remained.

Meetra ran to Finn’s side and pulled him to his feet before removing his handcuffs.

“Were you involved?” No reaction.

“We should go, until you’ve healed enough to talk.” Despite Meetra pulling him away from the unconscious figures, he did not move and kept staring straight ahead.

“Poe just crashed, Pallan beat you up and ordered you to be tortured, and you keep pretending nothing’s happened?”

“I deserved it. I am a traitor.”

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.”

 _This is getting ridiculous_. Meetra tried to find the memory through their bond. She found nothing but two blurred words. _'Thesh pro-'_

Without warning, Finn started screaming at the top of his lungs and dropped to the floor, writhing in agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters left for this part to tie up all the loose ends.


	16. Shifting Balance

“What happened here?” Leia Organa strode into the hall with determined steps, Admiral Tashik in tow. Her gaze was glued to the prone figures on the floor. “One of our best pilots is fighting for his life and I am being called to a hangar where my officers are apparently killing each other. What is the meaning of this, Meetra?”

The women she’d addressed straightened her spine, but kept one arm extended to support Finn. “Pallan was about to shoot him, without even a trial.”

“What for?” Tashik demanded harshly.

“She accused him of sabotaging Dameron’s X-Wing.”

Organa drew a sharp breath. “Did he do it?” she asked quietly as she inched nearer to the disturbing scene.

Meetra hesitated. “I don’t think so. I mean, he had no reason to. They are close friends and saved each other several times.”

“This situation exemplifies precisely what I warned you of, Leia.” Tashik remarked rather smugly.

“With all due respect, sir, if he wanted Dameron dead, he could have done it in a less dramatic fashion. He had ample opportunity to do so.”

“Perhaps someone else pulled the trigger in his head.” _Why does everyone insist on the presence of mind control protocols? Although - ’traitor’…_

“Again, why now? Unless it’s one of yours-“ came Meetra’s snide response.

“The impertinence!” The admiral sputtered. “You are hardly exempt from suspicion and yet have the gall to excuse my people-“

“ _Our_ people, Verill.”

Meetra ignored their argument and turned towards Finn, who was still shell-shocked and seemed to be unaware of his surroundings. _Aftereffects of the beating, or something far more sinister? Was it truly possible to control someone that easily, without the Force? Time to find out…_

“At ease, trooper!” She roared. Finn complied und stiffened despite the pain it was causing him. “Recount your last orders.”

“I am not authorised to divulge that, ma’am.” His voice was robotic and cold.

She planted a strong suggestion into his mind. “I am a General of the First Order, you will tell me!” _Well, half-truths were better that outright lying._

Finn was clearly struggling, but no words came over is lips.

“Worthless scum!” she pushed him back to his knees. “Speak, or your unit will suffer!”

“Remove…vital instrument…” Blood trickled from his nose from the unnatural exertion. “From fighter.”

“Who was the target?” She kept up the illusion despite the pain and fear it seemed to be causing her friend.

“D-d-dameron.” All of a sudden, he slumped to the side, making strange gurgling sounds in his throat.

She crouched down beside him. “Who gave the order?” In response, Finn retched violently and threw up on the floor, crimson intermingling with the contents of his stomach. _Kriff_.

“Desist your efforts, now! He needs immediate medical attention.” Organa called out sternly.

Meetra sighed angrily as she pushed herself off the ground. “I agree. I hate to admit it, but you were right, Admiral. Someone used him.”

 

 

“The spy-“

“-is not Finn, but the one who activated the mind control protocol. Does something like that really exist?” They were alone in Organa’s minimally furnished office, outfitted only with a few antique-looking Rebellion trinkets.

“Tashik told me the Strategic Information Services of both Republic and Empire historically made use of such methods.”

“I wasn’t aware.” Meetra shook her head incredulously. “It’s exceptionally cruel to have him attempt to assassinate Poe of all people. And the way they did it is terrifyingly brilliant…” Organa gave her a scolding look. “Well, it is. Though I still wonder why _now_. They risked being exposed.”

“Perhaps they underestimated your powers.”

“Or they assumed Finn would die before I got to him. The most likely explanation is that they intended to discredit me simultaneously. Pallan did claim that I was an accomplice…” _Could the captain be behind this? Being responsible for internal security is the perfect cover. But why draw attention to herself like that? Why put me onto Finn?_

“It irks you that you were unable to extract the information from him, doesn’t it?”

“I should have been able to. If the First Order can hide something like that so thoroughly…they are truly decades ahead of us in terms of technology and science.” Not to mention ruthless efficiency. Revan, not just during his time as Dark Lord, would have been thrilled _. Turning people without unsavoury brutality, simply by means of words-_

“Yet we are still here. We should not lose hope.”

“Hope is but a sleeping aid for the weak-minded.”

“Most of the time, it was all we had and we managed to defeat the Empire regardless.”

“Maybe this time round, it’s not enough.”

“That’s a valid concern, considering the First Orders methods. However, there’s a chance that others will overcome their conditioning as well.”

Meetra chuckled quietly. “I doubt it. Do you want to know what gave Finn the strength to do so?” Her interlocutor pursed her lips and nodded faintly. “He has the Force.”

“But we tested him, his Midiclorian count was very low…”

“The way you tested me? Looks like your abstruse theories about these ‘Force-sensitive cells’ are wrong. Though at least in my case, those Midi-whatever are probably inert or at least anomalous so they wouldn’t yield the results you expect. Finn might be an oddity as well, but I have not yet confirmed that hypothesis. Considering that killing corrupts him despite his mind-set being far from anything remotely dark, it’s very likely.”

“It … corrupts him?”

“I already told you, haven’t I? Continue down this path and he might have to make choices you wouldn’t like a bit. Killing goes contrary the very essence of his self. He was making great progress with regards to his usage of the Force before this incident. Being exposed to … the necessities of battle might have eroded his new sense of self, making him susceptible to the dormant protocols. I did teach him methods to shield his mind, after all. Apparently the conditioning works on an entirely different level. Besides, he initially claimed he never killed for the First Order, didn’t he? I have my doubts about that.”

“Why would he lie?”

“To convince you that he’s not the enemy? Though that’s doubtful. I guess they simply made him forget, big deal.”

“What makes you think that?” The general was gripping the edge of her polished desk, knuckles whitening.

“I saw it in his dreams while we were on the search for Skywalker. Different settings, same actions. People, mostly stormtroopers, cowering before him. Officers framing his view field - then, a nod from one of them. The moment he pulled the trigger…I instantly knew it was a memory, not merely a cathartic simile. It’s just like my nightmares.”

“He said he was in sanitation-“

Meetra smiled crookedly. “Keeping the troopers’ ranks clean. How fitting.”

The Resistance leader fell quiet. After intense deliberation, she seemed to have made up her mind. “Can you keep Finn from … deviating ever again? He will need to remain under supervision at all times if we are to prevent him from becoming the second victim of this plot.”

“You are asking a lot of me.”

“You may have noticed that there are very few people I can turn to nowadays. Well, how shall we proceed? Are you up to the task? No one except for Tashik witnessed the altercation. I’d prefer to clear Finn of the charges and let life on the base continue as normal until we find the mole.”

“What about Pallan and her unit?”

“Can you wipe their minds?” Organa asked without hesitation.

Meetra barked out a mirthless laughter. “Permission to kill Pallan instead?”

“ _No_.”

“Too bad. Well, I don’t think I can take the memory from her. Maybe messing with her perception of the event to make her believe it was part of the…of what I did to keep her from killing Finn. She’ll hate my guts for attacking her, though.”

“It’s a heavy burden-“

“Not at all. I’m used to being the odd one out. For Finn’s sake, I’ll do it.” _The other things you have tasked me with weigh much more heavily_.

 

 

For days after that conversation, Meetra spent most of her free time in the med centre, watching over Poe’s unlikely recuperation. He occupied one of the three bacta tanks available to the Resistance, floating lifelessly in the thick, silvery liquid. In the crash, he’d suffered a severe concussion, large-scale second and third-degree burns that alone should have killed him, and several fractures. The assassin’s plan had been thorough. It would be a while until the pilot would see active duty again. Time was a luxury they did not have, judging from the steady stream of comrades entering and exiting the centre, a number of them in body bags. Dr. Kalonia kept Finn sedated, allegedly to allow him to recover from the trauma. The reality was that he was clearly not himself. Whenever Meetra searched his mind, she found nothing but more nightmares. They were beginning to paint a clearer picture. Most of the scenes were set on a snowy planet or accompanied by an unnatural sense of cold – probably Starkiller Base. Sometimes, the situation shifted grotesquely, with Rey kneeling before Finn, eyes wide, resigning herself to her fate. At other times, the girl stepped in and cut off his arm with a blue blade before he could shoot. With a sigh, Meetra withdrew once more. _Insanity has crept upon this world…_ Her only company during those dreary days was the small astromech droid she had been refining her skills on. Even his personality emulation appeared more cynical as time passed.

The week ended with a devastating defeat. Admirals Tashik and Ackbar had set off into neutral space near a First Order stronghold with one capital ship and several cruisers. Only the former Navy officer returned from the ensuing confrontation, having lost two of the smaller vessels. Ackbar had gone down with his destroyer after buying his crew time to evacuate. Leia Organa barely contained her rage as Tashik retold events of the space battle. As Major Styx recounted later to Meetra, it had been Tashik’s aloofness and reckless decision-making that had led to the catastrophic turn of events. They had faced two battle-worn _Imperial Class_ Star Destroyers, one of them rumoured to be commanded by General Hux. Meetra scoffed at their naivety – _the Order’s poster boy contending himself to such an inferior vessel?_ But the opportunity had been too tempting to pass up. Consequently, the Admirals had unwittingly sprung the trap laid before them. The enemy ships had been damaged, likely beyond repair, yet with the loss of Ackbar, it had been a Pyrrhic victory, if it could even be called that. One of the Resistance’s pillars, of Organa’s main supporters was gone, further weakening her already fragile position. Voices critical of her leadership in general and Force Users having any say in the galaxy’s future could be heard even among the most dedicated. The former princess smiled the allegations away in an almost motherly way to keep the Resistance on track, whereas Statura tried to contain the growing unrest with an iron fist. Their respective behaviour was very unlike them. With each passing day, people grew more paranoid, some refusing to join manoeuvres or missions until the spy was found. Poe’s injury had dealt a shattering blow to their morale.

 

 

Poe and Finn awoke only hours apart. When Meetra went to fetch the General, she found her office deserted. Organa had departed from the Pzob base with a small, loyal envoy. A diplomatic mission, they called it. Timeframe: uncertain.


	17. A Precarious Gambit

**T** hey _needed_ this victory.

Failure was not an option. They’d been briefed on that repeatedly. In truth, their current endeavor had all the markings of a suicide mission. Meetra regretted dragging Finn along, but leaving him behind on the base would have exposed him to Pallan’s wrath and the mole’s machinations. The long sleep had worked wonders for him – he had forgotten everything that happened starting with Poe’s “accident”. To outsiders his behaviour would seem completely normal, but Meetra noticed the subtle alterations in his demeanor. He was quieter, more withdrawn. His recurring nightmares, which he never recalled, wrecked his sleep so thoroughly he could barely stay awake during daytime. Within a monthly cycle, he would change into a walking corpse.

Unless failure turned him into a corpse this very day. Only eight people had been deployed on the mission led by Major Styx. Meetra had been puzzled to observe his reluctance to take her with him, as if someone had forced him to, as if he knew what was coming. He jovially kept calling her his second-in-command despite keeping her out of the loop with regards to planning. Their task was sabotage once more – place mines in strategic locations all around a rather sloppily protected outpost, raise the alarm, wait until the enemy had entered the building, de-infiltrate and blow up the outpost on their way out. It was easy to see that a staggering number of things could go wrong.

With Meetra standing guard, Finn had barely finished placing the last mine on a load-bearing wall on Level -2, when all hell broke loose on their comm frequency.

“Several lifesigns approaching our positions on the upper levels.” Styx reported matter-of-factly.

“There are dozens of them.”

“Hundreds!” _They must’ve triggered silent alarms._

“Confirming visuals of stormtroopers. Aurek-2 through 8, split up and withdraw immediately. Quietly. Do not engage.”

 _The major wants to stay behind?_ “Sir, I’ll secure your path of retreat-“

“No, Surik. Go. I do have every intention of catching up with you.” Meetra doubted that.

She was about to respond, when she sensed him. _Ah, impeccable timing._ “Finn, get out of here and leave with the others unless this place blows up within the expected timeframe.”

“What about you?” he whispered, pulling on her shoulder.

“I need to do something, otherwise the Major’s actions will be meaningless.”

 

She waited in an ample, enclosed hall on the first lower level. Heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of the man she’d been waiting for.

“Kylo Ren. Once more our paths cross.”

He ignited his lightsaber in response. The buzzing sound echoed in the room.

“Rude.” With that, Meetra drew her worn-out vibroblade.

While fighting, her opponent was chaos personified. His strikes were precise, but under the surface raged a cacophony of barely contained emotions. A small push and his façade would shatter, revealing the tug of war within him. He was so much like Revan, a blinding revelation of power, but utterly lacked control or even insight into the depths of his abilities. Easy prey for Skywalker and Snoke and everyone else attempting to use him, to bend him to their will.

“Must we fight?”

“No,” the vocoder hummed, “you could surrender to the inevitable and die right now.”

He had not expected her to laugh and drop her blade, stretching her hands out to the side, palms upturned in an inviting gesture. Ren raised his saber and swung it at her head in an almost lazy fashion. It froze in mid-air, still inches from her neck, stopped by her lifted hand. As he struggled to overcome the block, she taunted him, “Breaking a sweat already? I haven’t even started. I thought this was just the warm-up.” Suddenly, he was flung back against the wall, his saber uselessly hitting the ground with a _clank_ beside him.

Meetra walked up to him, her eyes gleaming viciously. “You’re weaker than I expected.” A sharp pain ripped through his head. Horrible images pushed relentlessly into his mind, agonizing scenes unfolded before his eyes. _Ben Solo was weak and foolish –so I destroyed him… I want to be free of this pain… Will you help me?_ … _It’s too late._

“Now, will you listen?”

“Like I have a choice.” he spat, blood from his bitten tongue mingling with the saliva dripping down his chin underneath the mask.

“Snoke is using you, but you knew that already. I wonder, though, why you allow him to do so, considering your potential.”

“My master is wise-“

“Sure. It’s what keeps him in power. And he’s adept at manipulating you. You are meant for so much more, yet he has been holding you back all these years.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Ren growled.

“I know more than you think. You are alone. Not even a part of the First Order. Your only power is dependent on the Force, not true authority or merit. Your desire to distance yourself from your family, to cut the cords you consider a weakness, made you kill your father. Looks like the allegiance to Snoke trumps blood ties. But you know what? The only blood that matters…” She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his mask. “is that which you decide to shed. Or refuse to. Either way, it comes down to your choices. Therein lies freedom. Neither in the Jedi’s artificial restraints nor in whatever doctrine Snoke has you believe.”

“It made me stronger!” The man at her feet screamed.

“And yet you lie defeated. I could kill you, surely you realize that.”

“Then do it!” In contrast to his words, his hand shot forward, fingers closing around her throat.

“No. There is no triumph in your death.” Meetra put her hand over Ren’s, almost gently, easing the pressure on her vocal cords. “I want you to understand what you could be capable of. Of truly mastering Light and Dark.”

“Who are you? Why do you care?”

“I am someone who can help you unleash your full potential. Have you ever heard of Revan?”

“The…the Sith?” came the quiet reply.

“I’m sure he’d object to that. He was so much more. Revan wielded both the light and dark side. Imagine – no limitations. His wisdom, his power was unrivalled. But he didn’t even have your gift. Otherwise, nothing could ever have stood in his way. The Sith Empire and the Republic would have bowed to him, worshipped him for centuries. Nevertheless, the mark he left on history is undeniable.”

“Gift?”

“You have a natural aptitude for both sides. It’s causing you pain isn’t it?”

Kylo Ren refused to reply.

 _“ _The Force is a powerful thing to wield... or deny__ _. Even refusing to acknowledge one of its aspects has repercussions. I could teach you to forge your own path instead of following. No one has the right you keep you in chains.”_

“You killed one of my knights, why should I trust you?”

“It did get your attention, didn’t it?”

“Prove yourself, woman, if you think you can teach me anything.”

“Haven’t I already done so?”

“You have proven your strength, but not your intent.”

Meetra stepped away from the Knight and held out her arm. “Don’t let your pride get in the way, otherwise you won’t be allowed to get up.” Smiling condescendingly, she added. “By the way, I heard that. I am your head as much you are in mine.” She glanced at her watch. _The others should have reached the transport by now._

“There are mines placed all over the building. Twelve in total. They will bring the outpost down on your heads any moment.”

Ren barked into his comlink. “Captain, check the perimeter for demolition mines.” He turned to Meetra again. “This had better not be a diversion.”

She shrugged. “It’s your only chance for survival. This is more or less a suicide mission, the Resistance won’t hesitate to sacrifice me.” _Thank you for not giving me up, Styx. I owe you._

A woman’s deep voice rang through the comm. “Sir, we have found 7 mines spread over three levels. Should we attempt to diffuse them?”

Despite the mask, Meetra could tell that Ren was eyeing her expectantly.

“That would trigger them all. I could tell you the code, though.”

“Spit it out!”

“You will let me go, then. None of your troopers will pursue me or any Resistance members.”

The man nodded imperceptively. “You have my word.”

“478129.” She re-sheathed her vibroblade and turned to leave.

“Think about it, that’s all I ask.”

 

She ran. In the distance, the grey silhouette of a small transport vessel contrasted with the red sand. A sudden deafening sound behind her made her lose her footing . Simultaneously, her heart skipped a few beats, the muscles in her chest clenching with a pang of grief. _Stars, why? You always were a stubborn one, Major._

Meetra reached the Resistance ship before the dust had settled. Only the top level of the large building had collapsed.

“What took you so long?” her fellow fighters greeted her breathlessly.

“I couldn’t sneak past the troopers in the basement.”

“Where’s Styx?”

“He didn’t make it. He knew he wouldn’t.” _That’s my only regret._

“Kriff. Testor, get us out of here.”

 

 

Back on the base, it was the Stygian Squad, the deceased Major’s sniper unit, who greeted them. Nayoko watched everyone filing out of the transport, with her eyes narrowed and her hands firmly placed on her hips. When Meetra climbed out, Tamila took the lead and shoved her against the vessel's outer hull. “Where is Styx?”

“Killed in action.”

Their faces fell. “You planned this mission together with him! What happened to _no one gets left behind_?”

“He gave the order to withdraw without him,” she replied tiredly.

“Since when do you follow orders?”

“He made his pfassking choice. Don’t you dare shift the blame to me. When the First Order cornered him, he blew up the level-”

“Why not the damn building? He died for nothing?”

“Apparently the enemy troopers already cleared the lower levels.”

“That’s impossible! Someone must have given them the codes…” Tamila’s voice drifted off.

“He knew!” Sitka interjected. “He knew and still insisted on leading the mission. Nayoko, report to Admiral Statura and get Captain Pallan on the case. The mole is one of the eight people who have returned.”

“So this was a clean-house mission after all?” The very thought brought back unpleasant memories. She had been manipulated and betrayed once more.

“What do you mean?” Tamila stuttered.

“This mission was supposed to be important, yet Styx didn’t take the best. Everyone on this team was either known for insubordination or expressing doubts about the Resistance. With the exception of Pava, but she was just the pilot. She could have left after we’d all died in the explosion.”

“We’d never consider-“

“But she is right, Sitka.” Nayoko had returned with Pallan, grinning victoriously. “We had narrowed the list of suspects down to these very people. I already spoke to the others, they said you returned with considerable delay. Enough time to sabotage the mines and convince the Major to play the hero. Everyone else has at least one person vouching for them. What about you, Surik?”

“You know bloody well that I was on my own. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You accept the charges of high treason, then?”

“No, but that is inconsequential to you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re right. I have enough proof already.” Pallan sneered. “And Organa is no longer around to protect you. Your betrayal is proof of her inaptitude. There are two dozen weapons trained at your skull. I suggest you do not resist.”

“Resistance comes quite natural to people like us.”

“Boring joke. Hold her.” Tamila and Nayoko took up positions beside Meetra and gripped her arms painfully.  “Confess.” Defiantly, she shook her head. In her blind rage and indignation, she didn’t see the fist coming before it connected with her jaw with a sickening crack. “Say it! The blood of hundreds, if not thousands is on your hands. At least allow all of us to find some closure.” _If only you knew..._

“You’re insane. It wasn’t me.”

“Think! Only four people knew the deactivation codes. The other four would have had to find an alternative way of sabotaging the mission. The other three each have an alibi for at least one event the mole was involved in.”

“But-“ A kick in the gut pushed the air from her lungs. She could not fight the captain, despite the humiliating treatment she had to endure at her hands.

“Get on your knees.” Everyone in the vicinity was watching them. When Meetra hesitated, another punch in the face made her vision swim. A weapon’s barrel hit the back of the head, sending her stumbling to the ground. Moments later, she felt the cold nuzzle of a blaster pistol on her bleeding forehead.

“We have the death sentence?” she asked loudly.

“Technically, no, but since you are working for the enemy, it is only befitting to give you a taste of your own medicine.” The safety clicked. Meetra braced herself for the unavoidable, her mind racing with escape plans, each cone more ludicrous than the next. A sudden scream pierced the tense silence. An invisible hand had sent Pallan, the women holding her in place as well as some bystanders flying into the mud. Meetra curled up in a defensive pose, hands raised in surrender to indicate that she hadn’t done anything.

When she looked up, she saw Finn standing across from the landing site, trembling violently, arms outstretched. “If we have turned into the very thing we are claiming to fight, what is the point in continuing the war?” he yelled, catching everyone attention instantly. “If you want to be vicious killers, join the First Order. No trials, beatings, swiftly killing so called traitors - that’s just their methods.”

He walked over to Meetra, shielding her with his body. “Pallan has tried to frame me since I awoke from coma. When she found no proof, she turned to Meetra. All this time, she managed to fool us.” He spoke into his comlink. “Kaydel, play recording T-139.”

Noise crackled over the external speakers. Then, the captain’s steady voice. “Yev-Nen-Orenth-Shen-Three-Wesk- Enth-Leth-Krill-Eight…”

“What is this?”

“A coded transmission, sent on a seemingly random frequency, so none checked for it. It’s a First Order cipher.”

“What does it say?” several onlookers demanded.

“I am not sure, to be honest. It sounds like designations or-“

An elderly man interrupted Finn. “Coordinates. It’s similar to a very old Imperial code.”

“Coordinates of what?”

“The moon of Koto. Before that, she relayed a location in the Alzhan System, though I didn’t catch everything. I’ve gotten a bit rusty.”


	18. The Eye of the Storm

“You should come with us.” Poe prodded. “Not for my sake. The Resistance needs you.”

“As I told Pava, I can’t. My place is here. I still have a promise, a duty to fulfil.”

“What duty? Are you spying on Tashik or something?”

“Not quite.”

“Did the General put you on to this? You’re risking your life, if our suspicions are correct, the base’s location is no longer safe. Pallan had every opportunity to transmit our location - the First Order might get here with their fleet any day.”

“That’s what I am counting on.” Meetra grinned cockily.

He grabbed her wrists, eyes dark with worry. “Are you waiting for Kylo Ren, to kill him?”

“Perhaps. It’s better if you don’t know.”

“What about Finn, then? Have _you_ convinced him to stay?”

“Why would I? Besides, he’s not part of the Resistance. Never should have been. He deserves his own life.”

Poe leaned against the wall next to her, exhaling sharply. “I know that, but it wouldn’t be the same without him… I mean… Stars. I would never have expected him to have the Force, it’s…”

“Does this change your perception of him?”

“No, not at all, but he could have said something. _You_ could have.”

“We’ve been through this. It would have endangered him. Now go. We shall meet again.” Poe pulled her into a tight hug, wincing as her hand brushed over the sensitive, freshly healed skin on his neck.

“I will hold you to your promise.”

 

That day, a staggering number of pilots left for what they called the Freedom Base, the new headquarter’s of Organa’s faction. Tashik could do nothing to stop them take their X-Wings and equipment as well as enabling ground personnel to join them. When the shock and commotion had died down, he gave a rousing speech to the remaining one-third, mainly his Navy comrades and new recruits. No one on Pzob was privy to the new base’s location, a prudent security measure which at the same time condemned the undecided ones to their fate. Keeping a low profile, Meetra stayed behind and watched the unfamiliar faces go about their work. Finn, who spent most of the time hiding in the training barracks, was the only one she spoke with. It felt as if they were on enemy territory. _If they can’t even ensure unity among their own, the Resistance is doomed, regardless of Organa’s noble intentions._

Meanwhile, Pallan admitted nothing. Granted, the interrogators had asked the wrong questions, focusing on the how of the sabotage that had led to numerous botched missions. Regardless, what little information they did get out of her was enough to prove her guilt and clear the other suspects of any wrongdoing. The double-agent could rot in the cell for all Meetra cared.

 

Well before sunrise, Finn nervously roused her from sleep, shaking her shoulders.

“Meetra, wake up.” he whispered next to her face, kneeling precariously on the edge of her upper bunk.

“What is it?” came the sleepy reply.

“I- I have a bad feeling.”

She snorted with derision, but climbed from the bed after shoving Finn back down the ladder. Taking care not to wake anyone else, she slipped into her training fatigues and allowed Finn to pull her outside. “Another nightmare?”

“No, it’s this sensation … of dread I can’t shake off.”

“Did you have a vision?”

“I didn’t _see_ anything. Man, this is so hard to explain…”

“Don’t sweat it, I get your meaning. Let’s head into the woods for some meditation, it’s calmer there.”

 

A high-pitched, almost whining sound engulfed them. “Get down!” Finn yelled and pulled his friend to the ground. “TIEs! We should have warned the others!”

“Because of a feeling?” Meetra craned her head to scan the sky for further vessels. More than two dozen had flown past their position, towards the base. “Well, they do know now. They had weeks to prepare or get the heck out of here, don’t feel sorry for them.”

“But they’re going to die or worse, we need to do something!”

“What do you propose? How many TIE fighters can you take down? How many Knights of Ren can you face on your own? Can you stop an orbital attack from a Battlecruiser?”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Then you’ll die like a hero, big deal. No one is going to remember your pointless sacrifice.” She rummaged in her pockets and then handed him a tracking device and data chip. “Take these. There is a modified small transport on the other side of the valley. Use it to get out of here, if you fly to the northern hemisphere first, you ought to be able to evade their capital ships. The vessel comes with a customized astromech, he’ll do most of the flying for you.”

“What?! I’m not running away!”

“No, you aren’t. You’ll go find Rey.” She handed him her vibroblade. “Take this as well.” He complied, fingers trembling.

 “What about you?”

“Don’t try to help me. I have a different assignment. If the Force wills it, our paths will cross again, but you’ve got your own life now.” She yelled over the noise of the battle that was just starting nearby. For a brief moment, Finn looked as if he was going to argue, but then silently bowed to her and turned around.

With a sad smile on her lips, Meetra watched Finn sprint down the valley. When he had come halfway, she slowly made her way back to the base.

 

She sat on a table in the command centre facing the wide entrance, legs dangling leisurely. The doors swung open with a crash and a blinding light filled the room, reflecting off the white armour of dozens of troopers and the polished chromium of another armoured figure. In their midst- “Kylo Ren. What a surprise.”

The black-cloaked man signalled the soldiers to search the room and approached Meetra with measured steps. He came to a halt just outside melee weapon range.

“Where is General Organa?”

“You’re on the wrong planet, then, sorry.” Her reply elicited a distorted growl. “But if your people hurry, they might still catch Admiral Tashik. He escaped through the back door leading to the hangars.”

“Captain, search the exits and the hangars for the Navy admiral. Take all your troops.”

The chromium-clad soldier acknowledged the orders and her troops filed out promptly. When they were alone, Ren addressed Meetra again.

“Where _is_ Organa?”

“I don’t know. She didn't say.” A sharp pain shot through her cranium. “Those loyal to her relocated to another base. I’m not privy to their location.” She struggled to keep her voice even, but allowed him to search her memories in order to prove her sincerity.

“You have been waiting for me.”

“Yes, obviously. Have you considered my offer?”

He stepped closer, until the mask was right in front of her. A pair of brown eyes was vaguely discernible behind the narrow slits.

“I have. What makes you think I would trust you?”

“I came unarmed. Besides, I don’t need you to trust me. But I know you could be so much more. You’d have to be insane to throw a chance like that away.”

“The Supreme Leader will know.”

“He won’t, unless you’re too weak to keep this from him. In that case, you are unworthy anyway. Moreover, if he finds out, you can still claim you planned to use me.”

He deliberated for several minutes. Outside, the battle raged deafeningly. _The others are dying. They all will._ “Alright. I will put you to sleep temporarily. Do not struggle.”

“Do I look like I am stupid?” she huffed indignantly.

“Well…” he chuckled darkly, “the question is rather - will _you_ trust _me_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short-ish final chapter. I had to get this out of my system to focus on my upcoming thesis.
> 
> The next part will be called "Bracing the Void" and continue where we left off. Expect no updates before June.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
